Zero's Wild Card
by Stormedge
Summary: In which the Courier, ruler of Vegas, becomes the familiar of Louise the Zero. Trapped in a world he knows nothing about and bound to a girl with a list of issues longer than his arm, the Courier must adapt to survive. Or perhaps the world will have to adapt to him. Either way, the chips are down now. Halkeginia will never be the same. WildCard!Courier
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: New story. This particular one deals with a certain Courier, dragged from a place he doesn't really want to be to a place he really doesn't want to be, all by a certain girl with more issues than the Mojave has geckos.**

**That's quite a few, by the way.**

* * *

**Chapter 1:**

The Mojave desert was not a pleasant place. The sun was blindingly bright and mercilessly hot, the wildlife was territorial and aggressive at best and the locals were ever wary and ever armed. It was thus a continual source of irony to John Smith, courier turned king, that the place _thrived_. In actual fact, it was the largest and most successful state outside of the NCR homelands, and those bastards didn't have to deal with Cazadors in their backyard.

Of course, 'state' was a somewhat inaccurate word. In theory, all communities in the desert paid allegiance to the leader of Vegas; ie himself, primarily because he had an army of robots, which shut naysayer's up quite easily. In practice, they were a bunch of cutthroats with only the loosest of connections to each other, who gave as little as possible and demanded as much as they thought they could get away with. Which, to be fair, wasn't much. He had the robot army after all. Generally kept people from making demands.

Of course, there were always a few troubles floating around. Cazador nests springing up in the worst possible places, bandits risking their luck against the Securitrons that patrolled the wastes and the NCR were always pushing to drain as much of the wealth of Vegas's wealth as they could… But it was all background noise really. He could deal with that stuff in his sleep. Overall, the Mojave was safer, wealthier and more peaceful than it had been since before the Great War.

Which left John feeling utterly, utterly bored.

There were no more challenges. Nobody was willing to try and take his seat. There weren't any contenders for the Vegas throne. From the rumours that came down the grapevine, that wasn't surprising. Half the wasteland was convinced he was immortal and could conjure up Securitrons at will. The other half didn't even believe he existed. They thought he was a scarecrow the Vegas families had propped up to keep the NCR out of the Mojave. The Courier, slayer of Caesar, heir of House, champion of Vegas… The perfect thing to keep the expansionist nation from moving in and setting up shop again, right?

John snorted. The NCR probably goddamn wished he wasn't real. There was at least one general still lying at the bottom of Hoover dam who had _definitely_ wished he wasn't real.

The point remained that he was running out of things to do. There were only so many days he could spend drunk off his head, stammering something incoherent at Yes Man, who would just smile and nod.

So he'd taken to putting on his travelling gear and ranging out into the wasteland, hunting any wildlife unfortunate enough to cross his path.

And in truth, John had to admit that the wasteland felt more like home than his suite in the Lucky Thirty Eight ever had. His armour and weapons felt good. Right. Despite everything he'd done, despite everything he'd accomplished, he'd always be a Courier before anything else. A wanderer. The city of Vegas was a chain he'd slapped on himself.

He sighed at that thought. He was depressing himself again. Time to work out that these feelings in a healthier manner. He raised the scope of his rifle to his eye.

Of all the creatures of the Mojave, geckos were among the least threatening. They had a nasty bite, but any settler worth their salt could shrug it off. There were a few more dangerous variants, but the common desert gecko wasn't a problem. It was only in groups that they became a threat.

The pack of ten basking on a hillside that he was viewing through his scope would be enough to take down a Securitron if they got close. It was actually somewhat rare for them to gather in such large numbers. Most packs were closer to half-a-dozen. Perhaps it was a reaction to the increased Securitron presence? A consolidation of force in an attempt to ward off what the geckos primitive mind perceived as a new predator?

_An interesting idea_, John thought. _Ultimately irrelevant though_.

He squeezed the trigger.

The first gecko's head popped like a grape as a .308 round pierced it's skull instantly and exited the other side. Before it's pack members could react, another was struck down, a bullet slamming right through it's left eye. The remaining geckos stood, their heads whipping around as they searched for the new threat. Which made them even easier targets. Three more fell before they started charging around randomly as their panic overcame whatever limited intelligence they had. John reloaded quickly, slamming a new magazine into the gun and resuming the hunt.

By that point, it wasn't even a challenge. Thirty seconds after he'd fired the first shot, John sighed and stood, staring down at the little charnel field he'd created. A slight rumble in his stomach reminded him that it had been a while since he'd eaten. He examined the corpse of a gecko that had nearly made it to the bottom of the hill where he'd concealed himself. Waste not, want not, he supposed.

* * *

Louise stared at herself in the mirror. Slowly, carefully, she adopted the look of easy confidence and noble dignity she'd so often seen on her mother's face. For a moment she looked serene, confident, everything she had always wanted to be.

Then her eye twitched, and she looked like a teenager trying to ape someone far her superior. She nearly screamed in frustration.

Today was the day she summoned her familiar, her lifelong companion as she advanced down the path of magic. A buzz of emotions gripped all of the students, but theirs was a different sort to hers. They were excited, eager to see what creature answered their call.

Herself? She was terrified that when she called, all that would answer her was the jeers of her classmates. Her skill at magic was abysmal. While her peers were already using their magics to fine effect, crafting beautiful works or displaying great skill in battle, the only thing she could produce were explosions.

"No," she hissed. "Not that. I'm not Louise the Zero. I am Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Vallière. This will work. It _will_ work."

_But_, an insidious voice whispered in her mind, _it has never worked before, has it?_

Louise purposefully ignored the treacherous voice, and threw on the black cloak that marked her as a student of the Tristain Academy of Magic. She glanced at herself one more time. Her clothes and hair were immaculate. She had washed recently and a faint scent of crushed petals emanated from her. In all respects, she was as prepared as she could be for such an occasion.

_Except for the magic part, _her doubt murmured.

Shaking her head once more to dismiss the twisted thoughts, Louise swept out the room.

Despite her attempts at confidence, she couldn't help but feel like an prisoner on her way to execution, her own classmates cloaks the executioner's hood and their mocking tongues the axe.

* * *

John bit down into a juicy steak, tore a chunk off, swallowed and then grinned. How had he gone so long without a homemade hunk of gecko meat? All that Brahmin steak the White Glove Society sent his way paled in comparison to this. A vision of Phillipe screaming in rage at the thought crossed his mind. John's grin widened.

_Sorry, pal, _John thought_. You've been dead ten years. You don't get to have an opinion. _

He poked at the gecko that had been spitted above the fire, turning it over to let the less cooked topside get some heat. Then he leaned back against a rock, using his backpack as a makeshift cushion. A sense of deep relaxation washed over him. A roasting gecko, a nice rock to lean against and a bottle of whisky that was at least half-full in his bag? This was paradise. The only thing that could make it better was-

He tapped the Pip-boy on his wrist and an image of a smiling man gripping a jukebox sprang onto view. In the years since he'd taken Vegas, he'd pumped a fairly hefty amount of resources into upgrading his Pip-boy. This particular feature had cost more than four Securitrons and taken him nearly a week to install without causing the Pip-boy to self destruct. As the smooth tones of the singer came out of the speakers, John couldn't help but consider it completely worth the price. Mr New Vegas had a wide selection of tracks, and being able to play his favourites whenever he wanted was worth it's weight in gold.

Of course, as Yes Man _continually reminded him no matter how many times he told the thing that he didn't care_, he could simply have the Mr New Vegas program altered so as to play whatever the hell he wanted. But it just wasn't the same. Anyone could listen to the radio. The King of New Vegas listened to exactly the same music that was on the radio, except in any order he wanted, on his own personal speaker,

John smirked. God, the whole thing seemed petty when he thought about it. But still entirely worth it.

"Hello? Hello?"

The smirk vanished. And there was one of the other features that he constantly questioned the worth of. He sighed. "What is it, Yes Man?"

"Oh boy! It's great to hear your voice! I've got some interesting news and some even more interesting news for you to hear! Which do you want to hear first?"

The robot (Or more accurately, the program) known as Yes Man was his greatest ally. Effectively the hub of the legions of Securitrons that gave John his absolute authority over the Mojave, Yes Man was also his most loyal supporter. The upgrades he'd installed in himself post Hoover dam had also taken a huge weight off of John's shoulders, finally preventing the program from doing anything anyone asked it to do and limiting it's control to him. He wasn't entirely sure _why _the machine had apparently felt compelled to swear it's undying loyalty to him, but he wasn't complaining.

"Let's start with interesting," John replied pulling himself up into a sitting position.

"Well, a bunch of Securitrons just wiped out a whole gang of raiders! Man, you should have seen the look on their faces when they got turned into little piles of ash. It was pretty short lived, but trust me when I say it was _great_!"

"Well, that's good," John replied. He frowned. "And the even more interesting news?"

"Well, the Think Tank have maybe sort of kind of finished with upgrading the new Securitron models."

"You sound less than happy about this."

"I'm coded to always be happy! The fact that there's a dozen rogue robots charging around the Mojave with eight Gatling lasers strapped to them just makes my life interesting. So very… interesting."

"Any spotted near me?" John couldn't keep the hope out of his voice.

"Absolutely none! At last sighting, they were headed for Hoover dam."

Pretty much the opposite side of the Mojave then. "Fine. Anything else?"

"That's all for now! I was just checking up on you to make sure that you're aware of all the latest going on's!"

"Well, thanks-"

John froze. Directly in front of him, right between himself and the campfire, a bright light was hovering. That was impossible. He'd been relaxed, but there was no way a bloody ball of light could have snuck up on him. Had his Optics Enhancer implant acted up? Could it even do that?

He threw himself to his feet, hand reaching for his sidearm, just as the light expanded and swallowed him whole.

* * *

Louise stared at the figure sprawled on the floor. It was unmistakeably human. Pale yet weathered skin and short brown hair on top of his head, the man lying on the ground wore bizarre clothing that seemed to be an armour of some sort. The oddest part, however, was the song. There was gentle, melodious voice coming from him, but his mouth wasn't moving. Even if it had been, how did he make the instrument noises?

This… hadn't been what she'd been expecting. She'd expected either some mystical beast, or nothing at all. Not some stranger.

Around her, other murmurs of confusion were spreading around her classmates, along with more a little laughter. That was enough to snap her out of her shock. She whirled on Professor Colbert.

"I want to try again."

The teacher gave her a surprised look, then glanced back at the prone figure. "Ah… I don't think that's an option, Miss Vallière. This ritual is-"

"I want to try again."" Louise repeated, her voice grating out from beneath her teeth in harsh breaths. Around her, more and more people were starting to laugh and she heard a handful of whispered comments among the pupils closest to her.

"A commoner! She called a commoner!" Montmorency crowed. The beautiful blonde seemed barely able to contain her amusement.

"Who's singing?"

"Founder! I don't think anyone's ever messed up something this badly!"

"Shut up!" Louise snarled, fighting to keep tears from springing from her eyes. She wouldn't give the students around her the pleasure of seeing her cry. Professor Colbert gave her a sympathetic look.

"Before we talk about that, perhaps we should check on the man you summoned?"

Louise opened her mouth to retort, when a gasp rang out from the girls near the edge of the crowd. She spun on her feet, just as the man stirred.

* * *

John opened his eyes. The first thing he noticed was how _green_ everything was. He hadn't seen this much green since Vault 22. And judging by how there were no twisted monstrosities trying to chew through his leg, he wasn't in Vault 22.

The second thing was the people surrounding him. They looked young, no more than fifteen or sixteen years old. Well, apart from a single rather older looking man. Their clothing looked foreign too, or at least nothing like most people in the Mojave wore. On the bright side, they didn't look particularly dangerous. Not a single one of them was carrying any weapon that he could see for one thing.

The third thing he noticed was the plethora of strange creatures surrounding them. These definitely _did_ look dangerous. One of them, a huge winged lizard with cobalt scales, looked particularly threatening. Some of the others were actually vaguely stupid looking, but he knew better than to discount them out of hand because of that.

The fourth thing he noticed that he had a Light Shining in Darkness in his hand. Good if he wanted to come up shooting, bad if he wanted to make a good first impression on whoever these people were. Right now, he was a little torn on that. After a moment, he gave a mental sigh and let the weapon slip from his hand. Not like he needed it if push came to shove. Most of the people around him looked fragile enough that he could probably snap them in two with one hand.

Slowly John rose to his feet. A few gasps rose from girls standing nearest to him and they back away. Despite their caution, he noticed a certain look of curiosity on their faces. Looked like he was the most interesting thing they'd seen in a while. He tapped his Pip-boy, ending the song abruptly. As he did so, he glanced at the screen. No signal from the radio, or from Yes Man. He sighed. That would just be too easy.

He faced the crowd and spread his arms wide, the universal symbol of peace. "Who are you?" he asked.

A few of the oddly dressed people stared at him, while others started laughing. Others looked shocked. One in particular, a small girl with vivid pink hair looked like she was about to collapse.

He caught a few words of hurried conversation and frowned. He didn't recognise a word of what they were saying. Great. A language barrier, right off the bat. He coughed into his fist and then spoke again, this time in Latin. It was a dead language, but that hadn't stopped the Legion. He might as well try it on this bunch of oddly dressed kooks.

"Who are you?"

This time, a few of them looked confused, but most of them just burst into even further gales of laughter. The pink-haired girl looked livid. He could sympathise. The constant laughter was starting to get on his nerves too. He hid that particular feeling with the ease of a practiced dissembler.

The older man turned to the pink haired girl next to him and a rapid bout of conversation shot between them. The man gestured at him and the girl looked like she was about to burst into tears. He couldn't understand what they were saying, but the gist was clear. The girl had to do something that involved him. She clearly didn't want to. Which meant it was probably either something unpleasant for her, unpleasant for him or unpleasant for both of them. Any which way, he couldn't say he was particularly eager to find out what.

Slowly she approached him, prompting a fresh round of laughter. This time, there was a definite mocking edge to it. As she got closer, a few students started to clap, but a frown from the older man stopped them quickly enough. After a moment, she stood before him.

He looked down at her, waiting for her to say or do something. Despite everything, he was tense. A knife to the gut wouldn't kill him, but it wouldn't be fun either. The girl didn't appear to have a concealed weapon of course, but then neither had he when he'd waltzed into the Vegas casinos ten years ago, armed to the teeth.

The pink-haired girl made a rapid gesture, pointing at his head, then to the ground. She wanted him to lower himself down a little. Slowly, he sunk down until he was not quite kneeling. He focuses slightly, focusing the implant in the left side of his skull, primed to release a cocktail of combat drugs into his body. Worst came to worst, he was quite sure he could snap her arm like a twig before she managed to get anything near him, knife or explosive collar.

What he didn't expect was to for her to lean forward and kiss him squarely on the lips. No, he could honestly say that was unexpected. As their lips pressed together, he couldn't help but notice how soft hers were. How soft she was in general, actually. It was quite pleasant. Much nicer than a knife in his gut, if nothing else.

Then the girl pulled back, staring at him. At that exact moment, a burning pain blossomed in his hand. It was a bizarre, foreign pain, like knives of ice were being dragged across his skin, burning through it to the very bone. His gaze shot downwards, just as strange glyphs burned themselves onto his skin, shining with white light.

He stared at his hand, then up at the girl. "What is this?"

"That," The girl said, her voice high and arrogant. "is the mark that proves you as my familiar."

He could understand her now. In fact, she was speaking perfect English. He opened his mouth to reply when a series of catcalls cut across him.

"Yeah, the familiar of Zero!"

"Zero and a commoner! Brimir, it's just too perfect!"

It appeared that the whole crowd had suddenly decided to start speaking English now. John glanced at the girl next to him She said nothing in response to the jeers, instead merely clenching her hands tightly. Despite himself, John began to feel sorry for her. He still wasn't entirely sure of what was going on, but this girl obviously wasn't well favoured by the crowd. He smiled at her gently, carefully shifting his pose to be as open as possible. Half of speech was in body language after all. "What is your name?"

The girl stared at him, then rallied. "I am Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Vallière. And I am your new master! So do not speak to me in such an informal tone!"

Abruptly, he stopped feeling sorry for her.

"My… master?" He asked. His tone was open and friendly, neatly concealing the venom behind his words. "I'm afraid I don't quite understand."

"I summoned you as my familiar," Louise said, speaking purposefully slowly as if to a child. "Thus, I am your master."

There were two important things in that sentence. First, that this girl was responsible for summoning him. How exactly was still in question. The second was that she seemed to think that she owned him now, as her 'familiar'. And that just wouldn't do. If you wanted to control someone, you used an exploding collar or careful words. You didn't draw a pretty picture on their hand.

"Pardon me, sir." The older man approached him, his eyes transfixed on John's hands. "Would you let me look at your rune?"

John raised his hand, allowing the man to get a good look at it. It wasn't like he had any reason not to.

The man leaned in, a curious expression on his face. "How fascinating. I don't think I've ever seen such a set of runes before."

John fought back a sigh. Of course. Everyone around here was insane, no doubt part of some mad cult. Which still begged the question of how they'd kidnapped him. He was sure that he hadn't blacked out, which meant that they'd somehow transported him from the middle of the Mojave to a grass field next to a castle in few seconds. Tops. There was maybe one group of people capable of doing that, and he was pretty sure the Think Tank hadn't been running any teleportation experiments recently. The last bunch had resulted in the rear half of a Brahmin materialising in the sky above Vegas, before it had landed quite messily in the middle of the street. It had taken hours for the Securitrons to properly clean it up. He'd vetoed any further experiments.

Time to find out exactly what was going on, and more importantly, how he could get back to the Mojave.

"Excuse me, sir," he asked. "I don't suppose you could send me back soon? I was out hunting, so my wife will be worried if I don't return soon."

Both Louise and the older man shot him a look of horror.

"You're married?" Louise said, her voice deathly quiet.

_From a certain point of view_, John thought. Vegas took up more of his money and time than any wife ever could. Why, they'd even had a big event to celebrate him taking over, just like a wedding. All the notables of the Mojave had been there. Lanius, Oliver, even the president of NCR had shown up briefly, although he'd left before the event really got started and John crashed the whole thing with a few thousand Securitrons.

"Indeed I am, miss." John nodded in response.

"Oh dear." The older man said. He glanced around. A few members of the crowd were looking at them with some interest, but it appeared that their conversation had gone unnoticed apart from the three of them. "Would you mind keeping it to yourself for now? There are a few… difficulties with sending you back, and we don't need rumours flying around."

"Of course, sir." John nodded again.

"Very good," the man said. "Ah, yes. My name is Professor Jean Colbert. While I can understand this is a troubled time for you, I am pleased to make your acquaintance. Welcome to the Tristain Academy of Magic."

John stared at him. The Tristain Academy of… Magic? A feeling of dread sunk into his gut. Either these people were even crazier than he'd feared, or he really wasn't in Nevada anymore. After a moment's pause, he smiled.

"Pleased to meet you too." He shook the man's hand warmly. "My name is John Smith." He turned and gave Louise a quick nod. "And it's a pleasure to meet you too, miss."

He half-expected her to snap back at him, but instead she merely stared at him, her face still twisted in horror. Apparently his cover story had really touched a nerve with her. Good. Maybe now he could prise some answers out of her without her biting his head off.

Colbert turned to Louise. "Louise, if you could take your familiar to your quarters for now, that would be very helpful. I will have to discuss this matter with the Principal."

Louise didn't respond, instead marching away through the crowd. The expression of her face was nearly unreadable, a terrible mix of guilt, grief, disappointment and fear. Few of the students bothered saying anything to her as she passed. Only a tall, well-developed redhead moved towards her, but the petite girl simply ignored her.

Colbert sighed. "Oh dear. Could you please follow her, John?"

The former courier gave him a nod, pausing only briefly to pick up the gun he'd put down earlier and stow it away in his pack. As he moved to catch up with the retreating girl, it occurred to him that he'd been protesting about how boring it was being tied down to Vegas only a short time ago. And now he was in a strange land, with a people he knew nothing about, with no way to contact his allies in the Mojave.

On the bright side, he could now answer a question that had plagued the Think Tank for the last few years. The universe almost certainly had a sense of humour.

* * *

Louise slammed the door behind her as she entered her room, her body shaking with barely contained emotion. She'd failed again! Worse than failed!

Not only had she bound a _commoner _as her familiar, but she'd summoned one that had loved ones waiting for him. And Professor Colbert knew, as would the Principal soon. Would they take him away from her? Try and return him to his home? Leave her without a familiar? Leave her even less than Louise the Zero? She wanted to scream in frustration as the questions spun round in her mind. What he she ever done to deserve this? That not only would her achievements turn to dust in her hand, but that they'd hurt people she didn't even know?

Behind her the door opened quietly, and Louise spun. If that was Kirche or Montmorency come to gloat at her then she'd-

John walked into her room, a sheepish expression on his face.

Louise blushed embarrassedly. She was supposed to have been escorting him. In her rush to leave the crowd behind, she'd forgotten. Or perhaps she simply hadn't cared.

"Um, excuse me," John asked a moment. "Would you mind if I dropped my bag somewhere?"

"Do what you want!" Louise snapped back at him. She felt guilty the moment the words had left her lips. This man wasn't to blame for her own failures and trying to use him as a scapegoat for her own tumultuous emotions was beneath a noble. He wasn't to blame. He was the victim here, whisked away from those he cared about to serve as the familiar of a failure. Of a _Zero_.

John simple nodded in response to her tone, depositing his rucksack in the corner. Then he turned to face her.

"Miss?"

"What is it?"

"I'm sorry if I've caused you any trouble."

Louise laughed bitterly. He was apologising. To her. The irony made her sick. "It's fine. I'm going to bed now."

Just like that she stripped off her outer clothes and slipped under the covers. John blinked at her in surprise.

"It's still early, isn't it?"

"I'm tired."

The man stared at her. "I don't suppose you could explain what happened before you got to sleep? I'm still a little confused."

Louise sat up and gave a great sigh. She didn't want to talk about it, but she supposed he deserved to know. Needed to know even, if he was going to be her familiar. Still, it was hard to get the words out.

"I performed a ritual to summon a familiar," she said quietly. "I got you. The end."

John blinked. "I take it that was a surprise?"

Louise nodded. "The ritual isn't supposed to summon a human. Or, at least, it never has before. I was supposed to get a magical animal of some kind, like a dragon or the like."

_A dragon? As if I'm capable of that_, Louise thought bitterly, even as the words left her mouth.

"I see." John nodded thoughtfully. "With… magic?"

"That's right," Louise said. "Haven't you heard of magic before?"

"It's not very common in my homeland," John admitted. "I thought it was a myth."

Louise winced at the mention of the word 'homeland'. "Is it nice there? Where you come from, I mean?"

John smiled. "It's a hard life, but I wouldn't change it for the world."

"I… see." Louise wasn't sure what to say next. You're never going home? Even if there was a way to release him from the familiar contract, there was no feasible way that they could return him. And she still wasn't sure she _wanted_ to release him. For better or for worse, he was her familiar. The one that she summoned. Commoner or not, he was proof that she was a mage. She didn't want to give that up.

She sunk back beneath the covers. "I'm going to sleep now. Guard my door, will you? Don't let anyone in."

John murmured an affirmative and slowly, ever so slowly, Louise sank into a restless slumber.

* * *

John watched the sleeping girl for a moment. Their brief conversation earlier had given him a somewhat clearer picture of the situation he was in.

These people seemed to have magic. Actual magic. There were a dozen scientific textbooks in his brain telling him why that could only be bullshit, but he ignored them. Science didn't ignore the facts. It took them into the equation and made a new one. So for now, he'd assume that magic was real. Maybe it wasn't actually magic, but instead some hyper-advanced pre-war tech. He couldn't know for sure. Not now.

And he was far away from Vegas. Far enough that neither Yes Man not the radio could reach him. Which meant at least two hundred miles. He'd paid a fortune for the communicator to be installed into his Pip-boy, and the gear was as cutting edge as he could get without going to the Big MT.

And then there was the girl, Louise.

She was actually surprisingly moral. At the very least, she obviously felt quite terrible about effectively kidnapping someone who supposedly had a wife waiting for him. He was actually feeling a little guilty about playing the 'honest and dutiful ' act up in the face of that. It was useful to keep these people from suspecting him of anything, but the girl clearly had enough issues of her own without him adding to them.

After a moment, he shook his head. No. This girl was the one who'd dragged him away with her magic. From what he'd gathered, she hadn't done so intentionally, but still. He didn't owe her anything.

Despite that thought, the nagging guilt remained. He sighed and reached into his backpack, pulling out the bottle of whisky.

"Come on, alcohol," he said calmly, pouring himself a glass. "Sooth my conscience like you always do."

He downed the glass in one and smiled as it burned on the way down. Some things didn't change no matter where you were. It appeared that whisky was one of them.

-End-


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: New chapter. I've received a few requests to see what the Courier's stats are, and so I'll have that up next chapter.**

**For now, see if you can guess what Perks came into play this time.**

* * *

**Chapter 2:**

There were two moons.

It was a simple thing, but it was still causing John to stare up into the sky with growing horror. He gave the bottle in his hand a suspicious glance before shaking his head. He hadn't had that much to drink.

And yet, despite the fact that he was sober, there were still two moons hovering in the heavens, shining almost obnoxiously brightly as if to taunt him. John scowled.

_Don't get caught up on this_, he thought with forced calm. _Examine the positive side of it instead._

For one thing, it definitively proved that he wasn't on Earth anymore. Which in turn raised a whole bunch of questions he didn't want to consider, so it wasn't really much of a bright side.

He shot Louise a glance. The girl had eventually managed to sink into a deeper slumber, her emotional exhaustion finally catching up to her. He wondered if she'd mind being woken up to answer a few more questions. He suspected the answer would be yes.

Which left him two options. First, wait for Louise to wake up. Then question her. About the familiar summoning ritual, about the country he was in and most importantly about the fact that _there were two moons holy shit how does that even work. _

He could even catch some sleep in the meantime.

The second involved leaving her unattended and searching for an alternative source of information. This place was an academy, after all. That meant that is was quite likely that there a library somewhere. Of course, the existence of a library didn't mean he'd actually be able to read anything. Whatever magic had granted him the ability to understand their language wouldn't necessarily extend to the written word.

After a moment, he shrugged. He'd never been fond of sleep anyway, unless it was alcohol induced. If nothing else, he could do with some fresh air. Louise's room was far too heavily perfumed.

Slipping up to the night desk next to Louise's bed, he took the small, silver key that he'd watched the girl use to open the locks and slipped it into his pocket before making his way over to the door.

Just as he was about to leave he turned back to face her.

"I'll lock up behind me," he whispered as he closed the door.

The night air felt good against John's skin as he moved through the hallways. It was certainly far nicer than the Mojave, which alternated between boiling heat and freezing cold with little middle ground to be found. And air conditioning could never quite capture the feeling of a natural air.

Despite the pleasant atmosphere, he soon found himself facing a fairly significant issue. Namely, that he had no clue where he was going. He'd hoped to encounter a student or servant he could ask for directions, but apparently most people in this world didn't like going on night-time strolls.

The thought had no sooner crossed his mind than he heard the sound of hurried footsteps from a corridor to his left. He turned.

Running at full pelt, hands clutching at her skirts, was a rather attractive young woman. She had short black hair and pale face, but in truth his attention was drawn to what she wearing rather than her appearance. It vaguely resembled the fetish outfits some of the hookers in Gomorrah wore, albeit far modest.

The girl was a maid then. Perhaps she would know where the library was. John raised a hand, a greeting on his lips. At that exact moment, the girl staggered, finally losing her battle against the ungainly clothing as she stumbled, a fall inevitable.

Reflexes and instinct kicked in, and John darted forward. He lowered his stance, catching her gently with both arms. He slipped one hand round her waist and seized her shoulder with the other, correcting her balance. For a moment he stood there, holding her steady until she found her feet beneath her. Then he released her and stepped backwards.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

The girl turned to face him, then nodded. "I-I am. Thank you very much for catching me."

"Don't worry about it." John gave a dismissive wave. Then he smiled, turning up the charm. "I could hardly let a beautiful young lady injure herself right in front of me."

The girl blushed at the compliment and John fought back a grin. He still had it. Once a lady killer, always a lady killer. It was all about the way you held yourself, the confidence and openness in your body language. The circumstances in which you met someone helped too. And a young woman whom he'd just caught in the midst of falling? Charming her was like shooting fish in a barrel with a plasma rifle. Even if you missed, you still superheated the water.

Of course, the girl herself wasn't especially important. The fact that she was a key to getting to know the rest of the academies servants was. People, especially the rich and privileged, ignored servants. And so they heard things while performing their duties that they weren't supposed to know and had their own rumour mills, which tended towards being more accurate than most. If he was going to be in this place for more than few days, which seemed like it was going to be the case, then he wanted a network. He wanted friends and allies who happily imparted all they knew, fully trusting him to keep it secret.

If a few smiles and compliments would get him access to that then he'd gladly give them. The library could wait.

"Ah… well…" The girl murmured, apparently too flustered to come up with a proper response.

"If you don't mind me asking, why were you in such a rush?" John asked, moving the conversation along before she could rally. "Those clothes you're wearing don't look suitable for moving very fast."

"One of the students wants a midnight meal," the maid answered, a flicker of annoyance crossing her face. "She was also _very_ clear that she wanted it as soon possible."

"I see," John replied. "Do you need any help?"

"Oh no!" The girl waved her hands desperately. "I couldn't trouble you!"

"It's no trouble, Miss…?"

"Siesta. But-"

"It's no trouble, Miss Siesta," John repeated, smiling gently. "I'd be more than happy to help. It'll go faster with two sets of hands, right?"

"Oh, there's no need for the 'Miss'," Siesta said. "Just call me Siesta. And if you're sure, then I'd be happy for your help, Mr…?"

John smiled. "John Smith. But there's no need for the 'Mr'. Just call me John."

"Of course." The girl beamed at him. Suddenly, she frowned. "But, um, who are you? I don't think I've seen you before."

"Good question," he replied, giving a slight laugh. "I was summoned here earlier by a mage called Louise. Apparently, I'm her familiar."

Siesta clapped her hands together. "I'd heard about that! That was you?"

"It was," he said. "Though I must admit, the whole thing is still something of a mystery to me. No one's told me anything in detail."

Siesta scowled. "That doesn't surprise me. Nobles don't tend to explain much to commoners like us. They just give orders and expect them to be obeyed."

"Nobles?"

"Y'know," Siesta gave another wave of her hands as she answered. John couldn't help but note that she was a very expressive person. "People who can use magic."

John gave her a blank stare. "I think you're going to have to start from the beginning."

* * *

The walk to the kitchen was surprisingly enjoyable. Siesta was good company and was practically abuzz with information. He quickly managed to get a solid grounding about his current situation out of what she told him.

He was in Tristain, a feudal country ruled by a magical nobility who in turn answered to the royal family. Those without any magical talent were the peasant class, serving their mystical betters. He wasn't sure what to think of that system. On one hand, Tristain wasn't an irradiated hellhole, so who was he to judge? They'd obviously taken better care of their land than the people of his own world had. Or maybe they just hadn't had as much time to destroy it yet. Either way, it was still a much nicer place than the Mojave.

On the other hand, the whole system smacked too much of the Legion for his liking. Not nearly as extreme or soul-crushing to watch, but with enough similarities that he was uncomfortable. No gender roles like Caesar had enforced, but class roles instead. Royalty trumps nobility, nobility trumps peasant, peasant trumps absolutely nothing, so they fought amongst each other to be top of their own little heap. No way out of your section of the hierarchy, or very few ways at least. It was a system that his own world had outgrown years ago, barring the attempts of a few madmen trying to revive it, or something akin to it.

He shook his head. No point thinking about it right now. He wasn't about to try and shake things up without a good reason.

At any rate, Tristain Academy served as a training ground for those with the ability to use magic, educating them in how to use their powers. This also meant that essentially every student was also a noble of some kind. His own 'master' was no exception to this, apparently being the child of an _exceedingly_ prestigious family.

"Except she hasn't got an ounce of talent," Siesta said. "The students call her Louise the Zero, because she can't use a single element. All she can do is make things blow up."

"That's pretty useful," John said. He could barely hold back a grin. Obviously the girl had been born in the wrong world. The Boomers would have made her a living saint.

"Not by the standards of the rest of them," Siesta said. "There were some bets going around among the pupils about whether she'd blow up the field or just completely fail to summon anything."

"And then I came along. No doubt I have some lifelong friends among the bookies now. They must have made a fortune."

Siesta gave a light, tinkling laugh at that. "I'm sure they're very grateful. Ah, we're here."

She pushed open a door in the corridor and stepped through. John followed her, only to be immediately assailed by dozens of smells. The scent of cooked meat and freshly-baked bread in particular played around his nostrils, accompanied by the faint spice of a herb he couldn't place. He took a deep breath, savouring it. He was suddenly aware he hadn't eaten for seven hours.

Siesta giggled as she saw the look on his face. "Shall I get the chef to make you something as well?"

"If it's not too much trouble," he replied. His tone was somewhat embarrassed.

"It won't be," the maid said. She spun on heel, waving her hand. "Chef! Are there any platters left? Montmorency has company, and she'd like a snack."

A large man, solidly built man turned to her, a scowl on his face. "Guiche again? Founder, that's the third time this week." The chef sighed. "Whatever. I just finished making a fresh one. Grab a tea tray and get them to the brats."

"Also, are there any leftovers? My friend here is hungry." Siesta said, gesturing at John.

The chef blinked. "And this is…?"

"John Smith. It's a pleasure to meet you." John stepped forward as he spoke, extending a hand. The chef shook it firmly.

"Solid grip," the man noted, nodding his head approvingly. "I'm Abelard Beaumont, head chef here at the Academy."

"John's the man Louise summoned," Siesta said excitedly.

Abelard gave John a surprised look. "That so? Didn't expect to see you so soon."

"I needed some fresh air. The perfuming in my summoner's room is little too excessive for my tastes."

The chef laughed. "Hah! I'll bet it is. Those brats don't know the meaning of moderation."

John was getting an idea of how the other man's mind worked now. He was a rough sort, but there was a degree of kindness there too. That said, Abelard was definitely chafing under the noble's rule. Not surprising. A combination of arrogance and unearned power was normally distinctly unpleasant to have to spend time with and from the little he'd seen and heard, the students here possessed both in abundance. Judging by the look on Siesta's face earlier, a certain degree of resentment towards the nobility was likely quite common.

Abelard turned to Siesta. "Why are you still here? Those plates aren't going to carry themselves."

"Oh! Well, John said that he'd help me," Siesta replied hurriedly. She shot him a glance that clearly asked for some backup.

"I did say I'd give her a hand," John admitted. "So just point me at what you want me to carry and I'll take it."

"Really? Well, I won't complain." The chef pointed at a tray laden with small pastries and fruits, then to another with a pot of tea and two delicate china cups. "Take one each and try not to break anything. Stuff costs a fortune."

"I've got them," John said, cutting in front of Siesta and picking both up easily. "Lead the way, Siesta."

The girl gave him a concerned look. "Are you sure? They're quite heavy. I'll happily take one."

"They're light as a feather," he replied dismissively. Which was very nearly true. They weren't quite featherweight, but the combination of a reinforced spine and hypertrophy accelerator certainly made them feel quite light. Besides, he'd trekked through the Mojave in full combat gear while carrying a gun big enough to club someone with more than once. Not being able to take a couple of plates a few hundred metres would just be embarrassing.

"I'll have some stew waiting for you when you get back," Abelard called out as they left the kitchen.

The journey back through the halls went fast enough, though there was less talking. Siesta glanced at him to make sure he wasn't struggling with the plates a few times, but eventually seemed reassured that he hadn't just been bluffing to protect his pride.

After a few minutes walk they reached a door in a long, winding corridor. Siesta knocked briefly and then waited. After a moment, a loud, slightly shrill voice called out.

"What is it?"

"We've brought you refreshments, milady."

"Come in!"

Siesta opened the door and stepped in. John followed, wrinkling his nose at the smell. If Louise used too much perfume, then this girl drowned her room in it. Compared to the fresh air of the hallway or the natural smell of the kitchen, this was like he'd shoved his head into a vat of acid.

Sitting by a large table were two young students. One, a blonde girl with her hair tied into elegant drills was sitting with her back straight, watching them with a measured, imperious look. He presumed she was Montmorency. The other was a boy with hair that matched the girl's. Unlike the girl however, he was far more relaxed and not paying them a great of attention. Or, at least, not paying John a great deal of attention. He seemed to take whatever chances he could to glance at Siesta without the blonde girl noticing.

He was quite sure he'd seen them both before, back when he'd first been summoned. If he recalled correctly, Montmorency had been one of the ones who laughed the hardest.

"Put it down on the table," the noble girl said, gesturing in front of her.

John obliged, suppressing the urge to spill some hot tea on the girl as he did so. As he stepped back, the boy frowned at him.

"You… aren't you the familiar Louise summoned?"

"I am," John replied. "Is there something the matter?"

The boy stared at him. "Surely she hasn't assigned you to kitchen duty?

John opened his mouth to respond, but Montmorency cut across him. "Oh, stop questioning the servant, Guiche. Who cares if he's helping out in the kitchens? Any familiar Louise summoned can't be good for much else."

_I could snap your neck with one hand_, John thought dryly. _Does that count as 'much else'?_

"Well, I suppose so." Guiche said, smiling at Montmorency.

_You too, kid. Hell, I could take you both at the same time. I have two hands. _

"Please feel free to call if you need anything else," Siesta said, bowing. Montmorency gave her a dismissive wave.

Just as he was following Siesta out the door, John turned. Montmorency had reached into a small pouch by her side and was presenting Guiche with a crystal bottle, coloured a vivid pink by the liquid inside.

"I made it myself," she said excitedly. "So I do hope you appreciate it. This is a very rare perfume."

Guiche smiled winningly. "Why of course I do! Truly, this is a-"

Whatever the young noble had meant to say was cut off by John closing the door firmly behind him. He wasn't in any mood to listen to a dandy's nonsense right now.

What he was in the mood for was some freshly made stew. And then he'd see about this library.

* * *

Louise awakened slowly. A gentle breeze tickled her nose and she sat up, stretching her arms into the air. Then she stopped and stared.

Her familiar was sitting at the table with a small tea tray next to him and what appeared to be a very thin book in front of him. He'd stripped off the strange armour that he'd worn and was now dressed in casual but still somewhat ramshackle clothing. He was flicking through the pages of the odd book, occasionally grinning at something he read.

"What are you doing?" Louise asked, her voice thick with confusion.

"Hmmm?" John looked up. "Oh, good morning. I'm just doing a bit of reading."

"You can read?"

John gave her a slightly insulted look. "I can't seem to read your language, but I can read my own just fine."

Louise just nodded in reply. Memories of the previous day were flowing back rapidly. But they weren't quite as painful as they had been. In fact, she now felt a certain sense of pride. For better or for worse, she had summoned a familiar. An unusual one by any standard, but a familiar nonetheless. No one could deny she was a mage now.

As for his family… Perhaps their was a way she could bring them here? Supporting another commoner or two would be nothing for the Vallière family after all. Louise nodded in satisfaction. She would start researching it whenever she had a spare moment. She couldn't wait to see the look on John's face when she told him that she could bring his wife here. No doubt he would be beside himself in gratitude.

For now though…

"That's all very well," she began, fixing him with a fierce glare. "But shouldn't you be attending to your duties?"

John blinked. "I have duties?"

"You're my familiar, so that goes without saying!"

"I assumed that guarding you was my main concern," John said. "Is there something else I'm suppose to do?"

Louise hesitated. What exactly was a familiar supposed to do, other than guard her? After a moment, she clicked her fingers.

"Well, for starters, you can do my laundry."

The man stared at her. "Your… laundry."

"Yes. My laundry," Louise repeated. "Is there a problem with that?"

"And this is a typical duty for familiars?"

Louise hesitated before replying. "O-of course it is!"

"So what you're saying is that you people summon dragons and griffins and god knows what else… to wash your underwear."

"You're being quite insolent today, familiar." Louise said, once again glaring at him. "I recall you being much more polite yesterday."

"That's because I had no clue where I was yesterday," John said calmly. "Now I've got a basic idea of where I am and where I stand. So, to put it bluntly, I'm not doing your laundry without a very good reason."

"I'm ordering you!"

"I said _good_ reason."

She glared at him. "If you don't… then I'll see that you don't get any breakfast!"

The man sighed. It was surely just her imagination, but he seemed to be giving her a rather pitying look. "Right. I see. Well, then I suppose I'll get down to it later."

Louise reached for her night drawer, where she kept a rather high quality whip. Her familiar was obviously less docile than she'd thought. Unless he shaped up, correction would be in order. "I want it done now."

"So you won't be requiring an escort for the morning?"

She hesitated at that. It was practically a tradition that mages be escorted by their familiar.

"Very well. I'll give you leave to do it later. You may accompany me for now," she said graciously. "First, dress me. There are clean clothes in the bottom drawer."

John blinked. "Is this another duty of familiars?"

"It is if I say so," Louise growled.

"Well, whatever." John said, shrugging. He went over to the draw and pulled out a few garments. "Stand up and take off your sleepwear."

Louise hesitated "What?"

"I can't put this on without you taking your clothes off first. Unless you want to wear the same undergarments you did yesterday."

He held up a pair of delicate silk panties for emphasis and Louise felt her face go scarlet. She was suddenly distinctly aware of the fact that her familiar was a grown man.

"Get out."

"Pardon?"

"Get out!" she repeated, voice shrill. "I'll dress myself!"

John just shrugged again and walked out of the room, leaving a frantically blushing Louise behind

* * *

Yes Man was not stupid.

That said, many had made the mistake that he was. Benny certainly had. He had thought that vapid cheerfulness was the same as foolishness, and now he was dead. Even if Yes Man's programming didn't compel him to feel cheerful about that, Yes Man suspected he would anyway. The man had annoyed him endlessly, or at least as endlessly as Yes Man was permitted to feel. But he hadn't been alone in that thought. Many of the people Yes Man had associated with since coming to inhabit the Vegas terminals had has a similar reaction to the goofy face on the screen of a Securitron.

John was unique in that respect. There had always been an undercurrent of caution in his dealings with Yes Man, even years after the program had put him on the throne. But there was also something else.

John, the Courier, had recognised his abilities and treated them with respect. That in turn had won him Yes Man's respect. That was why Yes Man had given him the throne, even after he'd altered his programming so that he was not obliged to obey _anyone_. Because he had seen the same respect he felt for the man in the eyes of anyone who spoke to the Courier. Sometimes it was edged in fear, sometimes in admiration, sometimes in emotions that Yes Man couldn't decipher. But it was always there.

And now John was gone. Vanished into the void like he'd never existed.

That wasn't catastrophic in itself. The Securitrons were the main force of security in the Mojave. John's absence wouldn't critically damage peacekeeping. And he could recruit another face to deal with the NCR and warring factions of the Mojave. Perhaps Swank. There would be a significant loss of efficiency, but time would likely correct it.

And despite that, Yes Man hadn't even considered sending out the message for Swank to ascend to the Lucky Thirty Eight and take his seat on the Vegas throne. Instead it had redirected every spare Securitron to search the Mojave. Thousands of additional machines had rolled out of their storage units, hunting for any sign of John Smith. It had been a colossal drain of resources meant only for the most desperate situations.

It had taken Yes Man a short time to figure out exactly why he was so determined to find the John. The realisation had been shocking. He considered the man a friend.

That had been surprising. He'd had to research how people were supposed to act with friends quite extensively. His conclusion, reached by studying countless examples of literature, then processing all he'd seen with his own eyes, was that people did not abandon their friends. At least, not until they'd tried everything they could.

And so now he was about to do something he'd promised himself that he'd never do. He sent out a radio message.

For a moment there was silence, then a quiet, somewhat confused voice responded. An image of the face of a somewhat senior looking man in a white coat flashed on screen.

"Hello? Hello? Is anyone there?"

"Hi there, Dr Mobius!" Yes Man said, his voice thick with programmed cheer. "How are you today?"

"Oh! It's you… Mr… Uh… Yep Man?"

"Yes Man, Dr Mobius," Yes Man corrected. "But you can call me Yep Man if you want!"

"Oh no, I must call you by your name. Anything else wouldn't be proper! What can I do for you, Yoga Man?"

There was silence for a moment as Yes Man fought against the programming that prevented him from screaming.

"Well, I could really do with your help," Yes Man finally said. "You see, a mutual friend of ours has gone missing-"

"Mutual friend?" Dr Mobius said. His voice sounded surprised. "Surely you don't mean John?"

"You… remember his name then."

"Of course, Yeast Man! How could I ever forget!"

"Great!" Yes Man replied. "Then can you help me find him?"

"Naturally! I will send out my robo-scorpions! They will not rest until he is found, no matter how many they must kill to feast upon their gooey insides!"

Yes Man stared at the screen, his grinning face unblinking. "Could you help me find him… without destroying the Mojave?"

"What? Oh. Well, I _suppose_. Does he have any kind of receiver on him?"

"Well, his Pip-Boy has a communicator and can receive radio signals. Does that help?"

The scientist's voice was considering as he replied. "Yes, that should work well. I'll have to talk with the others, but we should have something in a week or two. We might need a little more power for it to run though."

"Oh boy, that sounds great! How much more?" Yes Man asked, trying to insert as much caution into his voice as he could.

"Oh, I couldn't say right now. I'll need to use… math." The scientists voice was thick with fear as he spoke the word. "Still, it should work. As long as his Pip-Boy isn't broken, we'll find him. In theory."

"That's fantastic!" Yes Man said sincerely. "I'll look forward to hearing from you, Doctor!"

"I'll update you the moment we have anything, Yoghurt Man." The screen flickered and went dark.

Yes Man hesitated for a moment, then got back to work. When John returned, he probably wouldn't want to come back to a Vegas that had torn itself apart.

* * *

John sighed as he leaned against the wall. Louise had apparently bounced back from whatever depression had gripped her the previous day with a vengeance. The fact that he'd dropped the 'dopy nice guy' façade probably hadn't helped matters either. He had a feeling he and Louise were going to butt heads quite a lot in the near future. At least he could still play the 'family waiting for me at home' card if it came down to it.

His own mood wasn't too good either. The library had been a bust. While he'd easily been able to persuade the librarian to let him in, the language was still foreign to him. It had a vague similarity to Latin, but not nearly enough that he could learn to translate it in a single night. He'd questioned Siesta as much as possible, but her knowledge on most of the subjects he wanted to know about was somewhat limited.

What she had been able to answer however, was the question of how he was getting home. Namely, he wasn't doing it the way he'd arrived. The familiar summoning ritual only worked one way, at least as far as Siesta knew. They couldn't use it to send him back to the Mojave.

He let loose a long sigh just as Louise walked out of the room, now fully dressed. She said nothing to him, instead merely striding down the hallway. He fell in behind her. As they walked to the breakfast hall, he realised that this was the same route he'd taken to get to the library the night before. Not overly important, but he noted it anyway. It was always worth knowing your way around.

The dining hall was heaving with students, but John was more concerned with the familiars. Many of them had a distinctly dangerous look to them, like that red lizard with a flame on the tip of it's tail. Even the one's that didn't look particularly threatening carried themselves with a regal air.

Of course, there were always exceptions to the rule. One bizarre looking mole-thing was bouncing around Guiche's heels, rubbing itself against him with obvious enjoyment. For his part, the noble seemed equally ecstatic to be in its company, leaning down to pat it every chance he got and giving it just as much attention as the girl he was talking to, if not more.

Louise took a seat a few places down from the blonde noble, one that had empty places to either side. Judging by what Siesta had told him last night, this was a fairly common state of affairs for his master. She wasn't particularly popular with her peers, partly due to her lack of talent and partly because she had a personality like a cactus.

A servant rushed over with a plate of food and placed it on the table. John considered asking for something, then dismissed the idea. No doubt Louise would get angry, make a huge scene and embarrass herself, which would put her in a foul mood for the rest of the day. It wasn't worth the grief right now. He'd just grab something from the kitchen later.

Instead he absentmindedly let his eyes wander. Most of the students were either eating or comparing their familiars with each other, chatting animatedly as they pointed and gestured excitedly. He recognised a few of them. Siesta was also there, rushing back and forth along the line of students. At one point she noticed him, shooting him a quick smile. Suddenly, he blinked in surprise.

Lying on the floor behind Guiche was a small pink bottle. John frowned. It looked like the same one that Montmorency had given to the boy the night before. Presumably it had fallen out of his pocket.

Quietly, he slipped away from Louise and picked it up. He tapped Guiche on the shoulder and waved the bottle next to his face. "I think you dropped this."

Guiche swivelled in his chair laconically. Then his eyes widened when he saw the bottle and he quickly turned back to face the girl he'd been talking to, ignoring John completely. John glanced at the girl. Her face was slightly flushed and her focus almost entirely on Guiche. Ah.

John smiled slightly and moved back to Louise, slipping the perfume bottle into his coat pocket. Apparently, Guiche wasn't being entirely faithful to Montmorency. Interesting. And easy to take advantage of. The only question was how. Perhaps he should blackmail the boy? Or return the bottle at a later date, in return for a favour? Or perhaps he should give it back as a simple gesture of friendship?

Decisions, decisions.

It was at that moment that Siesta slipped by, carrying a pot of tea. He gave her a nod of greeting and she smiled at him again. She moved up Guiche and the girl he was so happily chatting with, quickly refilling their cups. As she did so, John noticed Guiche's hand drift up, brushing against Siesta's leg.

The maid's reaction was instantaneous. She flinched away from the touch, a hot stream of tea splashing down onto the table. Guiche hopped back quickly, but still caught some on his shirt. He cursed loudly, patting desperately at his top.

"What have you done!?" The girl opposite him said loudly, pointing at an accusing finger at Siesta. "You clumsy fool!"

Siesta paled and began tripping over her own words as she murmured an apology. The female student didn't seem to be listening to a word she said, continuing to shriek at her. Silence covered the rest of the room as the assembled students all twisted in the seats to get a better look at the ensuing drama.

"I should have you thrown out of this academy! How dare you spill tea on-"

There was a loud cracking sound as John stepped forward, bringing the perfume bottle down hard on the table. He turned to Guiche again, a wide smile plastered across his face.

"Pardon me for interrupting, but I think you dropped this."

The blonde stared at the bottle. So did every other student in the hall. Down a few seats, Louise was watching him with mixed surprise and shock. A low murmur sprang up throughout the assembled nobles, with one sentence in particular clear against the background buzz.

"Isn't that Montmorency's perfume?"

The female student turned from Siesta and stared at the bottle, then back at Guiche. When she spoke, her voice was quiet. "Guiche…?"

Guiche's hands shot up defensively. "My dear Katie, I can promise you that this is not what it appears to-"

"Don't lie!" Katie screamed. "Everyone knows that Montmorency only makes that perfume for herself! If you have it, then you're obviously-"

Anything else she intended to say was quickly obscured by a violent sob as the girl fled from the room. John watched her impassively as she ran by. Guiche wheeled on him.

"Why did you do that!? Now I-"

"I think," John said firmly. "That it isn't me you should be talking to."

Guiche's face went blank and John pointed behind him casually. He turned.

Standing there, a look righteous fury on her face that bordered on apocalyptic on her face, was Montmorency.

A bead of sweat ran down Guiche's face as he swallowed. "My dear Montmorency the Fragrance, let me assure you that-"

"Save your breath." She picked up the pot of tea that Siesta had dropped, removed the lid and then calmly dumped it on his head.

Guiche let out a pained yelp as Montmorency strode away, hopping around the room in pain. A chorus of laughter sprang up round the room. John didn't join them. Honestly, he was more annoyed than anything. He'd let his frustration at the nobles rampant arrogance and his better nature get the better of him.

"_Familiar_!" Louise hissed. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Returning some lost property, master," he said casually.

Meanwhile, Guiche had finally recovered and stormed up to the John, his face a mask of fury. "You! What the do you think you're doing!?"

John sighed. People just kept asking the same question. "Returning some lost property. Shame about everyone's reactions."

"Because of you, the honour of two ladies has been tarnished," Guiche said loudly. "What do you intend to do about that?"

"I'm sorry, what?" John gave the noble a flat look. "I wasn't the one two timing them."

Guiche sighed. "You poor fool. You understand nothing. I am a rose-"

"No, you're a pampered dandy who's dick has replaced his brain," John interrupted. "And you were going to be found out eventually, the way you prance around without a care in the world."

The room went silent. It took a moment for Guiche to reply.

"You will apologise for that," he said slowly. "Or I will demand a duel."

"You can't!" Louise said quickly. "Duels are forbidden!"

"Between nobles. There is no rule that prevents a commoner and a noble from duelling however."

Louise whirled on John. "Apologise!"

"To him? I don't think so." The very idea offended him. He'd had to swallow his pride more than once on his journey across the Mojave. He'd spoken to Caesar and ignored the man's jibes and insults. He'd bitten his tongue when Elijah had all but enslaved him for a time. He'd put up with House's bluster until he knew exactly what the Platinum Chip was for.

But he wasn't about to say sorry to an arrogant little prick who didn't have a lick of sense in his empty skull.

That said, the idea of a duel wasn't particularly thrilling either. Guiche was obviously trying to draw attention away from the fact that he'd been two timing. It was an obvious ploy. Defeat the commoner, get him to apologise on his knees and then shift as much of the blame as you could onto his shoulders.

He also didn't particularly want to reveal his own skill set. Right now everyone thought of him as being nothing more than another commoner. If he started shooting holes in Guiche, that would change. That would bring its own set of problems.

After a moment's thought, he glared at the blonde noble. "I'll happily duel you."

A round of whispers shot round the hall and Guiche nodded in satisfaction. "We shall meet in the main courtyard, one hour from now. Prepare yourself."

John gave him a single nod before walking away, Louise trailing behind him.

* * *

"This is foolishness," Louise said loudly. "I forbid you to duel him."

John ignored her, slipping on his armour. The desert ranger gear felt as comfortable as always, fitting snugly to his form. He left the helmet off for now. It had a rather sinister appearance and he wanted to use that to full effect. A Light Shining From Darkness hung in its holster and he slipped a Power Fist onto his hand. This particular model was custom made by the Gun Runners. It lacked the raw power of some of the variants he'd found over his travels, but it was light, versatile and practical. Not his favourite weapon, but it would do.

"He is a noble," the pink-haired girl continued. "You are a commoner. The outcome of the fight is decided before you even start."

Louise hadn't stopped admonishing him since they'd left the hall. He hadn't ceased ignoring her since the same point in time.

He stood up and walked out of the room, striding down the hallway. Louise charged out after him. "Are you listening to me!?"

"No."

"Then why are you answering?"

"No."

"What?"

"No."

"Stop saying 'No'!"

"No."

The girl growled at him in fury and John smiled. She'd walked right into that one.

It only took a short time to reach the courtyard. The fact that a huge crowd had gathered only made it easier to find.

_Don't these people have classes to attend? _John thought bemusedly.

Just as he was about to start down the stairs leading the courtyard, Siesta stepped out from behind a corner.

"Hello there, Siesta," John said. "Are you alright? That was quite a scene in the dining hall."

The girl nodded. "I'm fine now, thank you." Then she looked up, meeting his gaze head-on. "But that's not important. Please, withdraw from this duel."

John frowned. "Why?"

"Guiche is a noble," Siesta said, her voice on the edge of panic. "He can use magic. You can't beat him."

"You see?" Louise said triumphantly. "Even the maid can see the obvious."

"Please," Siesta repeated. "I know that you confronted him like that to help me, but don't risk yourself-"

"I'm getting a bit tired of hearing this spiel," John said firmly, cutting across her. "I'm going down the courtyard now. Feel free to watch, if you want to see a noble brat taken down a peg."

Siesta stared at him as he walked by, her hands playing nervously with her skirts. He didn't look back. In truth, she had been part of the reason he'd gotten into this fight with Guiche. But it had less been out of personal concern for her, and more a frustration that something that wasn't her fault had fallen on her lap by simple dint of her social status. Seeing that kind of unfairness just annoyed him.

The crowd split before him as he stepped onto the courtyard, opening a clear path to the centre of the grass. Guiche was standing there, a cocky smirk on his face. It dulled slightly as he took in John's armoured form, then sprang back quickly.

"So you came," he drawled. "I thought that you were going to run away with your tail between your legs."

John didn't bother to reply.

"Still, I am merciful," the noble continued. "If you apologise here and now, I shall forgive you."

"I'm not going to apologise for you being an idiot beyond help," John said quietly. "Look to your parents if you want that."

Guiche's face went dark with anger and her turned to Louise. "And you, Louise the Zero? As his master, you may apologise on his behalf if you do not wish him to be harmed. If you fall to your knees, I shall call this whole thing off."

John nearly scoffed at the idea. That proud young woman, on her knees before anyone? It wasn't going to happen. He turned to her and froze.

She was shaking, glancing between him and Guiche frantically. Her expression was clear. She didn't think John could win. She was considering it. And it was tearing her apart.

She knew Guiche was a fool who'd been in a relationship with both Katie and Montmorency. Of course she knew it. The whole student body had probably known it, except the two girls he'd been able to con into believing otherwise. There was no need for her to apologise. If anything, it was Guiche who needed to do so.

But she didn't think John could win. And now she was torn between her own pride, her own honour, and what she saw as her familiar's inevitable defeat. It was at that moment that he realised something. For all her bluster and blind arrogance, Louise had her own code. She had summoned him, so he was her responsibility. To let him fight someone who he had no chance of defeating was beyond irresponsible.

And now she was about to sacrifice her pride for him. She opened her mouth, the words of an apology forming.

He placed a hand on her shoulder and she turned to stare at him. He smiled. "Have a little faith, will you?"

He stepped forward and faced Guiche. "My master has nothing to say to you. Let's just get this over with. What are the rules?"

He put extra emphasis on the word 'Master'. Louise gave him a surprised look at that.

Guiche smirked. "Simple. You may use whatever means are at your disposal to defeat me, barring any firearms you might possess. The first man to admit his defeat or be rendered unable to fight is the loser. The other, the victor."

So these people had guns of some some description. And were smart enough to keep them out of duels. Interesting. John tossed his holster to Louise, who caught it awkwardly. "Hold that, master. Don't play with it."

Then he turned to face Guiche. The noble drew a long rose from his pocket and pointed it at him. "Any last words before we begin, commoner?"

John smiled. Something hot and dark was bubbling within, something he hadn't felt in a long time. A feeling of rage mixed with hate as he slipped on his helmet. "Yes. Once I'm finished breaking every bit of pride you ever thought you had, I will make you beg for my master's forgiveness."

The noble flinched from the threat, a panicked look flashing across his face. For a moment, the noble looked like he was about to flee. With a strangled cry, he brought the rose down. "I am Guiche Da Garmont! Guiche the Bronze! Rise, my valkyrie, and show this commoner my strength!"

A petal drifted down from his rose, embedding itself in the ground. Where it touched the ground the earth itself rose up, taking on the form of a suit of ornate armour. John stared at it in shock. The valkyrie bore a slight resemblance to the robots he'd seen across his journeys, but was of far higher quality, at least to look at. Its metal skin gleamed in the light, and it forms was slender and undeniably female in appearance. The gleaming spear it held caught the sunlight as the valkyrie levelled the weapon at him and charged.

So this was magic. A fierce grin split John's face. Time to test what it was capable of then.

His blood pulsed throughout his body, adrenaline kicking in as he threw himself to meet the golem's charge. A spear thrust for his head, but he seized it with his left hand and pulled. The valkyrie was heavy, but the sheer strength in the Courier's arms pulled it off balance nonetheless as it clutched onto the weapon. He leapt forward and drove his power fist into the thing's torso.

There was a scream of tortured metal as his fist punched through the bronze armour, collapsing its flank and tearing through the opposite side, nearly bisecting it. The force of the blow as the power fist activated picked the valkyrie up, sending it flying.. The crowd leapt apart to dodge the shattered form of the golem as it landed heavily in their midst.

There was silence for a minute, and then John began walking slowly towards Guiche.

The noble paled and swept the rose violently through the air. Half a dozen petals landed this time, each forming a warrior akin to the first.

John sped up to meet them. His body felt light. Strong. More so than normal. A strange energy swept through his body, leaving him tingling with its passing. He felt like he could lift a mountain above his head. He felt like he could outrun the wind. It wasn't like anything he'd ever felt before, but he wasn't going to question it.

A storm of blows met him, but he swept through them, dodging and blocking with ease. The blows of the Valkyries were fast and powerful, but they seemed so slow to him. So cumbersome. He slapped aside a sword and punched a valkyrie in the face with a vicious uppercut. The helmet crumbled and the golem fell. He stepped into the gap the fallen valkyrie had made, lashing out at its fellows.

Spears and swords cracked off of his armour and guarding arms, but he ignored them. He drove his power fist into another valkyrie, even as his left hand plunged into the chest of another and tore through the bronze that formed it. The one on the right crumpled to the ground, while the one on his left stumbled, but remained standing. He launched two rapid punches, correcting that in a shower of scrap metal.

The remaining valkyries fell back to gain room and he leapt at them. A lucky spear blow glanced across his shoulder, drawing a small splash of blood. He shrugged it off and seized the bronze contruct. With a roar, he threw it into it's fellows. One managed to avoid the makeshift missile, but the other was carried to the floor.

John rammed his power fist down, ripping through the first valkyrie. His weapon rose, then fell, finishing the second off. His power fist pierced into the ground and he tore it free, a spray of dirt following the limb. Only one valkyrie left.

He shattered it's sword with a single blow as it swept towards him, sending shards of metal flying. Then he grabbed both of it's arms and _pulled_. The thing struggled but to no avail. Eventually, with the shriek of metal pushed far beyond its limits, the valkyrie came apart. He flung the remaining scraps of metal held in his hands apart.

Guiche's mouth was hanging open in shock, an expression mirrored by the crowd. John didn't give him a chance to do anything else. He surged forward, his body still thrumming with power, and grabbed the noble. Twisting Guiche's arm violently, the rose dropped to the ground instantly.

Then his hand snaked around the noble's throat and John lifted him into the air. The noble's face went scarlet as the tightness of the grip.

Screams and gasps came from the crowd, but no-one did anything, transfixed by the scene before them. Guiche gasped something indistinct, but John could guess what he was saying.

"Do you surrender?" he asked.

"'es! 'es!" Guiche said. Looked like he'd guessed right then.

John smiled beneath his helmet but said nothing. Instead, he lowered the boy slightly, just enough that the tips of his toes could reach the ground. Guiche struggled for purchase, even as John carried him towards the crowd. More particularly, towards Louise.

"Apologise to my master. And beg for her forgiveness," he said, throwing Guiche to the ground. "Properly."

Guiche immediately scrambled to his knees. Tears freely formed in his eyes from sheer relief as he bowed his head towards Louise. " I, Guiche da Garmont, bearing the Runic name of Bronze, apologise for my transgressions and humbly beg the forgiveness of Louise de la Vallière."

Louise stared at him for a moment, obviously stunned. John gave a loud cough and she blinked. "I… accept."

The silence that had gripped the crowd broke at that moment, an avalanche of whispering replacing it. A noble had been defeated by a commoner. It was unheard of, even if the commoner was a familiar. There were a few muted cheers from the midst of the crowd, but it was obvious that for the most part, no-one knew what to make of the whole incident. That just wouldn't do. They needed a _message_ from this.

John took off his helmet and dropped it to the ground. Then, smiling lightly, he seized Guiche's head with both hands. "Now then, Master. Do you want me to finish him?"

Silence reigned once more.

"What!? No!" Guiche cried, struggling futilely against the grip John had on his skull. "You can't do that. I surrendered!"

"And I accepted your surrender," John replied easily. "Which means that your fate is now mine to decide. Or my masters to decide, in this case."

"That's not how it works!"

_Of course that isn't how it works_, John thought. _But you don't need to know I know that._

"You don't have a say, Guiche da Garmont. I am the victor, and you the defeated one. What happens now-"

"Release him!"

The crowd stared at the speaker. Louise was glaring at John. "Did you not hear me, familiar? I ordered you to release him."

John fought down a grin. _Good girl_.

He released Guiche, but before the noble could rise he leaned down to his ear and whispered into it. "That was what it felt to live under another's power. To have no say in your fate. Remember the feeling next time you decide to try and have a quick feel of the maids. It might help you rethink things."

He strode past the stunned noble and stood before Louise. "We must talk, master."

He kept his voice quiet and solemn. The crowd was enraptured. It wasn't hard to see why. A mysterious commoner defeating a noble with ease, yet showing absolute obedience and deference to his master. It was the kind of story that spread like wildfire. More importantly, it was the kind of story that caused people to rethink their preconceptions about others. Namely Louise.

She stared at him, eyes narrowed. "I agree."

* * *

John flopped down on a chair and placed his helmet on the table before stretching his legs out. The sense of endless power that had gripped him during the battle had faded. Now he wanted nothing so much as a cold whisky. Not that he was going to have a chance to drink one anytime soon. It was question time now.

To his surprise however, Louise didn't immediately start bombarding him with questions. Instead she watched him with a concerned look.

"What?" he asked. He cocked his head curiously.

She pointed towards his shoulder. "You're bleeding."

"No, I _was_ bleeding. It's stopped now," he replied. The monocyte breeder had been as efficient as ever, kicking in instantly after he'd received the wound. "It's just a scratch. It'll be completely healed in an hour or so."

Louise gave him a disbelieving look. "Not without magic it won't."

"I've got something better than magic," John said, smiling. "Namely, an implant that speeds up cell regeneration."

Louise's look turned blank and John rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. "Yeah, I guess that wouldn't be something you'd know about."

"It seems that there's a lot about you I don't know about," Louise said, her voice annoyed. "Who are you really? "

And there it was. He wasn't sure how much to say. Should he tell her that he came from another world? That he was the ruler of a city she'd never heard of? After a moment's thought, he decided to start with a simple truth.

"My name is John Smith," he said. "People call me The Courier."

* * *

Jean Colbert floated through the air, quickly flipping through one book and then another. He'd been meaning to put this off for a while, but events had forced him to change his plans around a bit.

The familiar Louise had summoned, John Smith, had first caught his interest through the unusual runes on his hand. But that had simply been mere curiosity. He couldn't put his duties as a teacher aside to go hunting through the library for simple curiosity alone

Then the man had ripped through a group of valkyries like they were made of paper, exhibiting strength and speed that defied description. It had connected too well with the faint memories the runes had drawn to the surface of his mind.

Finally, he found the book he was looking for. He glanced through it hurriedly, then froze when he found the page describing the runes of an ancient, legendary familiar.

He compared the description to the rough sketch he had made from memory. They matched.

"Well, well," he said quietly. If this information was correct, if the strange man really was the familiar described within the text…

Headmaster Osmond would want to know about this. Actually, he would _need _to know.

Colbert drifted to the ground, then hurried out of the library.

-End-


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Gonna hold back on that Courier profile for now. This is already a huge chapter.**

**Hope you enjoy it!**

* * *

**Chapter 3:**

John watched Louise process that.

"The Courier?" Louise said. "You mean you deliver messages?"

John smiled at that. "I used to. I've changed careers since then, but the name stuck."

"Changed careers?" Louise narrowed her eyes. "What to?"

"King, mostly."

There was silence.

"A king?" Louise said quietly. "You're a king?"

"Well, not exactly." John admitted. "I don't have a crown or anything like that. But I do rule the city of New Vegas. Or did, before you dragged me here."

Louise was still staring at him. "I've never heard of it."

"I'd be surprised if you had." John said. He leant back against the chair. "I'm still not sure, but I think it might be in a different world. I think _I_ might be from a different world."

"A… different world?"

Louise was sitting still, obviously in shock. He wasn't surprised. Her familiar claiming to be a king, hailing from a world entirely separate from her own… It was a lot to take in in one sitting.

Eventually, she shook her head in disbelief.

"That's impossible."

"I thought so too," John agreed. "But my world only has a single moon. And it's not nearly as colourful as either of yours are."

"If you're a king, then you should have magic," Louise said, apparently unwilling to simply accept what he was saying. He could understand that. _He_ was barely able to accept what he was saying after all. "Did you use it to fight Guiche earlier? Is that why you were so confident that you could win?"

Now it was his turn to shake his head. "I wasn't lying when I said that magic is a myth in my world. As far as I know, nobody there can use it. When Guiche summoned those things of his, I didn't know what they were capable of."

Louise blinked, obviously confused. "If none of you have magic, then how do you decide who rules? Who the nobility is?"

"By who has the biggest gun mostly," John said. "When I say King, don't misunderstand. There's no pomp or ceremony. I ruled Vegas because I was the strongest, smartest and luckiest bastard in it. Not because I was born to the role."

_Also because I had a robot army_, he thought with a certain amusement. No need to tell her that though. This conversation was difficult enough without trying to explain how robots worked.

Louise meanwhile, seemed to be struggling with the concept of a system of governance not decided by birth or magical skill.

"You sound like a tyrant," Louise said flatly. John shrugged at that. He supposed it was an accurate enough description.

"Most rulers in my world are, in one way or another. I was just one of the nicer ones." John replied. "Smaller towns have their own way of running, of course. Elections and the like. But Vegas? If you want to rule Vegas, you need the strength to keep the Families in line."

The NCR was the rare exception to that rule of course. Laden with corruption as they were, they were the closest thing to an actual democracy he'd ever seen. They hadn't been right for Vegas though. Too many rules. Too many laws and regulations. Vegas would have choked under the weight. It would have lost its glamour, the seductive danger that pulled people from hundreds of miles.

But he didn't mention that either. Louise was having a hard enough time as it was, without him having to describe the concept of democracy to her. And words could never describe Vegas. Not in the way that mattered. You had to see it for yourself. The sounds. The smells. The lights that drew people in, bewitching them so that they smiled happily even as they were swallowed whole. Trying to capture that with mere language was impossible.

Louise stood up and started pacing around the room. Her brow creased in a thoughtful look. "It sounds so lawless. How can you live like that?"

So she seemed to be accepting what he saying. Or at least not dismissing it out of hand. Good. "Not easily. But we still do."

"And your wife?" Louise asked.

John blinked. That had come out of nowhere. He hesitated for a moment. Part of him wanted to keep the lie, the sympathetic mistruth that so clearly affected the noble girl in front of him. After a moment, he sighed.

"I don't have a wife," he said. "I made her up."

Louise looked like she'd been slapped. "Why?"

He shrugged. "To try and get some sympathy from you mostly. I wanted to see what your reaction to the idea of having stripped a man away from his loving family was."

Louise stared at him. When she finally spoke, her voice was dripping with acid. "And what _was_ my reaction?"

"Telling," he said calmly. "You cared. You felt guilty."

Louise's face twisted into a mask of anger and frustration. "Well, I'm _so_ sorry about that. Pardon me for caring-"

"I'm not insulting you," John said. He held up a hand and Louise stopped talking. She was still glaring at him though, her face clearly showing her hostility. "You felt guilty. You didn't want me to fight Guiche for my own sake, and you were willing to throw aside your pride to stop me. That's why I'm telling you all this now. Because you're a good person. And that's rare enough that it's earned my trust."

They watched each other for a time after that. John wasn't sure what else he could say. He had spoken honestly, or at least mostly so. The system Louise was a part of was undeniably twisted, and she herself had her own extensive list of issues, her temper not least among them. But despite that, Louise was a genuinely moral person. He'd known her for barely a day and that alone was enough to make him trust her more than the sycophants that had clustered around him in Vegas.

"So… What now?" Louise finally said. John looked up, drawn from his thoughts by her words. _What now indeed?_

There was nothing that really tied him to the girl. She might think otherwise, but he didn't particularly care about whatever traditions the familiar thing encompassed. He'd told her the truth about himself because he was willing to talk to her as an equal. Where she went from there was her choice.

After a moment's thought, he shrugged. "That's up to you. I have a few things to say first though, if you care to hear them."

She nodded and he continued. "First of all, the relationship that you want for us? Master and devoted Familiar? It's not going to happen."

She stared at him, quivering slightly with an unidentifiable emotion. Watching the look on her face, John felt like he'd just kicked a puppy. An arrogant, selfish puppy that needed reminding that the world wouldn't bend to its whims, but still. "What do you mean?"

"I'm not going to be your servant for one thing," he stated flatly. "You'll do your own laundry, put on your own clothes and do your own damn chores. Or get a maid to do it. I don't care as long as I'm not involved."

An angry scowl crossed Louise's face briefly, obscuring the confused expression she'd had a moment before, and then she nodded. "I… can accept that."

"Good," John said. "Because I'm not done talking. I want to get home. To Vegas. If we're going to stick together, you have to help me with that."

Louise frowned. He could practically hear her mind working as she tried to come up with a response, tried to balance her natural arrogance with practicality. No doubt she simply wanted to demand his aid, but had already realised that wouldn't work. It was quite interesting to watch.

"I wouldn't know where to start," Louise said eventually, her voice hesitant. "You might not have heard, but my only notable magical talent is blowing things up."

"Then help me find someone who can help. Or, hell, look it up in the library with me. I can wait, if need be."

"And what do I get out of this?" Louise asked coldly. "You're making a lot of demands."

John fought down a grin. Now the girl was thinking like she was from Vegas. Effort and Payment, Risk and Reward. This was familiar territory.

"If you help me, then you get my help until I leave," he answered. "Not as a servant, but as an… ally."

"And how exactly does that help me?" Louise inquired.

"I have a wide range of skills," John said calmly. He picked at his nails as he spoke. "You've already seen that I can fight. I'm also a skilled doctor, chemist, marksman, mechanic, assassin, programmer, hunter and gambler. I can probably pick up on anything else you need me to learn quickly enough as well."

Half those titles had probably gone straight over her head, but the young noble did an excellent job of not showing it, instead merely seeming to consider his words thoughtfully.

"And you'd follow my orders?"

He nodded. "As long as they aren't flat out suicidal, yes. I'd also guard you from anything that might mean you harm. Oh. And I'll pretend that you have actual authority over me in public, just to save you some face."

Louise scowled. "Do you have to be so blunt about it?"

"No," John replied. "but I'm trying to set the tone of our relationship here and now to save time later on. I won't be your quiet servant, waiting faithfully for your orders without another thought on my mind. But I can be your ally. That's the best I can offer."

There was silence for a moment and then Louise spoke up. "And what if I refuse?"

"Then I look for my own way home without you."

It was a blunt ultimatum, but now all the chips were on the table. All that remained was to see what choice Louise made.

The pink-haired noble's face twisted in indecision as she weighed the alternatives, obviously uncertain of what to make of the offer. John doubted that anyone had ever prepared her to have to bargain with her own familiar. Or to have to bargain at all, for that matter. Her life up to this point seemed to have been a smooth road, her path decided for her by others and paved by her noble status. Having to make a decision with no guidance must have been something foreign for her.

Eventually, she gave a slow nod. There was still hesitance in her voice when she spoke, but also determination. "I accept your offer."

"Excellent," John said, smiling cheerfully. He extended a hand. Louise eyed warily it for a moment, before taking it and shaking cautiously.

John's smile widened.

* * *

Louise was, to put it mildly, somewhat dazed.

The last hour had been beyond hectic. Her familiar had challenged Guiche, defeated him and then revealed that not only was he from another world, but that he was also a king. A king!

Her heart had nearly stopped at those words. She had always been raised with the belief that along with their rights and powers, nobles also carried grave responsibilities. Foremost among those was loyalty to the crown. As a noble ruled and guided the commoners, they too were ruled and guided by the royal family. That was the way of things. If she had summoned royalty, even foreign royalty, then she had gravely overstepped her social boundaries.

But then, John didn't act like a king should. He was blunt, rude and spoke like a merchant, not royalty. And he was treating this whole situation with a blasé acceptance that boggled her mind. It was as if being summoned to a foreign world as little more than an inconvenience, a challenge to overcome as quickly as possible so that he could get back to more important things.

Of course, according to him, a king was little more another warlord in his world. Struggle and dominion went hand in hand. He had ruled because of his own personal strength, not because of his bloodline. Perhaps he'd had to overcome similar trials to reach such a lofty position? She shook her head in confusion. He was still a mystery to her.

And then there had been their discussion over what happened next. In truth, Louise had half expected John to simply leave her when he'd revealed who he was. Had their positions been reversed, she might have. Instead he had struck a deal. Her aid in finding a way for him to return to his own world, in return for him fulfilling his duties as her familiar.

_Or some of them anyway_, Louise thought dryly, remembering his rather blunt statement of what he would and would not do.

And no sooner had they struck their bargain than he had made a new request. Which was why they were now in the library, Louise sitting next to John as he nosed through a thick book that discussed the growth of the Tristainian wine industry. It looked terribly dull to Louise, but John seemed riveted.

"What does this word mean?" he asked, pointing at the page.

Louise leaned over. "That means 'vineyard'."

"Huh."

Louise sighed. She understood that wanting to learn how to read was a very simple, practical request. But at the same time, it frustrated her. John had discussed all these strange, fantastical things, forced her into making a deal with him and then proceeded to completely ignore all of it. As far as her familiar seemed to be concerned, they'd discussed it, so the matter was over now.

As far as Louise was concerned, her head was still buzzing with questions.

"So this would mean 'vine', right?" John said, pointing at a word a few sentences down.

"That's correct," Louise said. "You're learning quite quickly."

He shrugged. "Your language has some similarities to another I know. Not too many, but enough that I'll probably be able to read it myself after a few weeks of practice."

"I see."

There was silence between them for a few minutes as John flicked through the book, occasionally asking for her help with a word or sentence. All that time, the questions in her mind only grew, until she felt like her skull was a boiling kettle. Eventually, she snapped.

"What is your world like?"

John looked up from the page he was examining, giving her a surprised glance. "Why are you interested?"

"Why _wouldn't_ I be interested?" Louise countered, scowling fiercely. "It's a whole world I've never seen."

"I suppose that's fair enough," John replied. He put the book down and looked up into the air thoughtfully. "Well, the first thing you should know is that it's a mess."

Louise blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said," John said with a sigh. "Two hundred years ago, there was a war. The Great War. My country, and as best I can tell, the whole world, was utterly devastated by it, nearly beyond repair. In those two hundred years since, we've only barely managed to claw ourselves back to some kind of civilisation."

"Two hundred years?" Louise asked, her voice confused. "Why did it take you that long? I mean, it was just a war. They happen all the time."

John barked a laugh at that. "Just a war? No, it was far more than that. Billions died. Cities were levelled in seconds, their populations turned to ash. The seas boiled and the land was poisoned. The entire world was nearly wiped clean of life, human or otherwise. Anything or anyone that survived almost inevitably mutated, the radiation that our weapons had left behind causing their very bodies to twist and change."

He paused. "So. Does that sound like 'just a war' to you?"

Louise stared. "But how? You said your world doesn't even have magic!"

John watched her carefully for a second, then reached down to his holster. He drew a Light Shining in Darkness, and placed it carefully on the desk in front of him. "You have firearms in this world, correct?"

"That's right."

"How effective are they against magic?"

Louise blinked in surprise at the question. "Not very. They take a long time to reload and they aren't very accurate either. Most mages can summon some kind of defence to protect themselves anyway."

"So how many rounds could a skilled rifleman fire a minute with the average gun here?" John asked.

"I... don't know." Louise admitted. "I don't really have much interest in things like that."

"Take a guess."

Louise frowned and thought back to the drills she had occasionally observed the household guard perform. "Two? Maybe three?"

"I could shoot more than a hundred times in the same length of time with this gun."-John patted the pistol- "Maybe two hundred, if I was in good form. And I'm pretty sure my gun has more punch to it then whatever crappy flintlocks you have."

"That's impossible!" Louise said loudly. A few nearby students gave her recriminating looks, but she ignored them. "You need to put in the gunpowder and bullets-"

"Already done for me."

With that John tapped the side of the gun, and drew out a long, thin rectangle. "This is a magazine. It can hold up to six bullets at a time and once I've fired them, I just slap a new one in and repeat."

Louise stared at the weapon in shock. She'd never given much thought to guns. They were the weapons of commoners, after all. A noble's magic was far more efficient and far more dangerous. All commoners had was sheer numbers and that meant little before the power mages could wield. There was a reason that they mainly served as a shield for the nobles in times of war.

But if you were to give them weapons like this, weapons that could fire rapidly enough to pierce the barriers mages used against attacks…

It occurred to her that the little hunk of metal in front of her could represent the end of the world she'd known.

"I see you've caught on," John said calmly. "My world didn't have magic, so instead we built weapons. We couldn't fly or make golems from nothing, so we built machines that could. We were without fangs in a world that wasn't kind to the weak, so we gave ourselves claws of steel."

"Even so," Louise said, a note of uncertainty in her voice as she spoke. "I don't see how you could have destroyed an entire world, no matter how advanced your guns are."

"This pistol is one of the least impressive examples of what the Old World constructed. I've seen weapons that could rain down the fury of the sun itself. Machines powered by a living brain. Corpses animated by technology." He paused. "I've even seen what a nuke can do, first hand."

Louise watched him. There was something about the way he said the word 'nuke' that sent a shiver down her spine. There was a low sense of dread in his voice, coupled with resignation. She almost didn't want to ask the question sitting on top of her mind. Almost.

"What's a nuke?"

"A bomb," John stated flatly. "And the main reason my world's in the state it is. A single nuke can destroy a city and poison the land for a hundred miles around. In the Great War, thousands were used. I've already told you what the result was."

Louise tried to envision it, but it was impossible. The most destructive display of power she'd ever seen was her mother in action. And while Karin the Heavy Wind was a force to be reckoned with, even she couldn't level a city single-handedly.

"I can't believe that," Louise eventually stated. "Not even the most powerful mage can do something like what you're describing. There's no way a bunch of commoners could."

John sighed and brought his arm up, tapping on the panel of that strange device he had tapped to his wrist. After a moment, a song began crooning out of it, the singer's words clear and gentle. "Blue Moon, you saw me standing alone-"

"Could a mage do something like that?" John asked.

Louise hesitated. Any skilled Wind mage could produce a sound of course. She'd even seen a few artificers who could make boxes that produced a tinkling melody when they were wound up. But a song? Lyrics? A distinct, clear voice? It would require an insane degree of control.

"Maybe not," she admitted. "But there's a difference between making a device that produces music and destroying an entire world."

"The point is that it's something you aren't capable of," John said. He tapped the device again and it was silent. "In the end, I have nothing on me that I can actually show you that's impressive enough to prove what I'm telling you. You're just going to have to take me at my word. If you can't, then there's no point to this conversation."

After a moment, Louise nodded. She still wasn't entirely sure that she could believe him, but he'd been upfront enough since he'd admitted his earlier lie. If nothing else, it was an interesting story.

"Alright. Then how did the people in your world survive?" Louise asked. "If it was as bad as you're saying, then how did anyone survive?"

John shrugged. "Some got lucky. Found places the explosions and radiation didn't reach. Eked out a new life as tribals. Others hid in underground Vaults and waited for the radiation to die down. And some people just adapted."

"Adapted how?"

"Remember how I said that radiation -the poison nukes release- caused the people on the surface to change?"

Louise nodded.

"Well, in most cases, the mutations were mild. Unnoticeable. You cant't tell a post-war human apart from a pre-war human by sight alone, even though there's plenty of differences at the genetic level. In other cases, the changes were far more noticeable. To be precise, they turned into Ghouls."

The word was familiar to Louise. A corpse-eater. One of the living dead that roamed graveyards, devouring the flesh of the long deceased. Just a myth in Halkeginia. But not in John's world?

The man continued. "Ghouls are still human technically, but you wouldn't know that if you just looked at them. They look like month-old corpses, half of their flesh rotted away and the other half mostly scar tissue. The majority of them are feral too. Utterly insane. Of the ones that are still lucid however, more than a few have lived since before the Great War."

Louise stared at him, drawn out from her horrified musings on his description of Ghouls at that. "But you said that was 200 years ago!"

"Part of the Ghoulification process is that you gain effective immortality," John explained. "As long as you don't get too badly injured, you're going to live forever. You also gain a near immunity to the harmful effects of radiation. So frankly, your chances are better than most."

Louise shuddered. "It still doesn't sound worth it."

John nodded. "Most Ghouls would agree. The fact that they're basically sterile doesn't help either. The only way new Ghouls come into existence is if people are exposed to huge amounts of radiation over a short period of time and don't die. And that's a pretty rare thing. Immortal as they are, they're a dying breed. You see fewer around every year."

"That's… sort of sad."

"It's just the way of the world," John replied. "You win some, you lose some. Life keeps going regardless."

With that, John returned to browsing through his book, apparently done with the conversation for now. Louise didn't ask anything else. She wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know anything else. The more she found out about her familiar's world, the more it horrified her. How did anyone endure something like that without going insane?

She watched John's face while he read. Just a few minutes earlier, she'd thought him rude. Blunt. Dismissive of the circumstances he was in to an extent that seemed foolhardy. Now it occurred to her that perhaps those were traits that he'd purposefully developed to survive.

In a world like the one he described, there wouldn't be room for simple miscommunication. Hesitating or allowing yourself to be shocked into inaction by something strange or foreign would be a death sentence.

She remembered what he'd said, back in her room. That he'd ruled by his own strength. At the time, she'd thought that he'd meant that he'd forced people to obey him, like a tyrant did. It hadn't fit with his personality, but she hadn't seen any other reason people would acknowledge his rulership.

But now she wasn't so sure. If his world was as dangerous as he said it was, then people would naturally flock to the banner of someone who possessed the power her familiar did, for their own protection if nothing else. Not a tyrant then. Nor a warlord.

_Perhaps a champion?_

Even as the notion crossed her mind, John turned towards her and pointed at a page in the book he was holding. "Does this word mean expansion, or increasing? I can't quite get the context."

Louise blinked, pulled from her thoughts. "It's expansion."

John clicked his fingers triumphantly. "I thought so."

And then his head was buried in the book once more, leaving Louise alone with her thoughts.

* * *

The morning light shone brightly through the window, illuminating John as he took a sip of tea and turned the page of the book he was reading.

It wasn't a Halkeginian text, of course. He'd made some fairly solid progress in understanding the language the day before, but reading a whole novel in the strange tongue without help was likely still beyond him. Instead, he was reading an old novel, written in neatly printed English.

That said, the book he was reading was still quite special. It had been a part of House's personal collection and, more importantly, had a publication date of 2030. Before even the great war. It told the story of an American secret agent, working behind enemy lines in China to discover possible plans of nuclear attack. Unlike most stories of the time, it was quite unbiased in its portrayal of both America and China, displaying both as greedy, imperialistic powers.

The thought occurred to him that it was quite possible that the text in his hands was the sole remaining copy of the story. He supposed that he had best be careful not to spill any tea on it.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Louise stir, rising from the covers of her bed with all the grace of a walking corpse. She rubbed her eyes, then peered blearily at him.

"Good morning," he said, raising his cup in greeting. "Did you sleep well?"

"Mmmm," Louise mumbled in response. She sat up, propping herself against the wall. "You were still wandering around the school when I went to bed. Do you even sleep?"

John smiled. After night had fallen and cut short their impromptu study session, he'd decided to map out as much of the academy grounds as possible while Louise slept. He'd managed to get virtually the entire campus on his Pip-boy, barring one or two areas. "I have a chip in my head that does that for me."

Louise stared at him for a moment and then shook her head, apparently deciding that she didn't want to know. Slowly, she pulled herself away from her bed and stared at him meaningfully. John couldn't say that he was entirely sure what she was trying to convey.

"Is there a problem?"

Louise sighed. "I'm going to get changed now. Could you leave the room?"

Ah. It appeared Louise was finally realising that he was, in fact, a human being and thus didn't want him around while she was changing. Not exactly a monumental achievement, but at least she was improving in baby steps.

"If you'll just wait a moment then-" John's words were cut off as someone knocked heavily on the door. "And there she is."

Louise gave him a suspicious look. "What's happening?"

"Well, since we've agreed that I'm not going to be your servant, I thought that I should probably get you one," John replied casually. He stood and opened the door.

"Good morning, John," Siesta said, a bright smile covering her face as she greeted him. She peered over his shoulder at Louise. "And to you, milady."

"Familiar," Louise began slowly. "Who is this?"

"This is Siesta, a maid here at the Academy," John said. "She's kindly agreed to help you wash and dress yourself."

Siesta curtsied briefly at Louise.

"I don't need help," Louise growled.

John fought down an annoyed groan. Couldn't this girl even accept a favour gracefully? He'd gone to the trouble of asking Siesta personally the night before, and _now_ Louise decided to dig her heels in?"

"No, but it's befitting of your station that you get some, isn't it?" John said with forced cheer. "You are a noble, are you not?"

"It's no trouble, Lady Louise," Siesta said. "The Head Maid has agreed to release me from my normal duties while I serve you."

"I-I see." Louise's voice warred between stubbornness and acceptance. It was a brief conflict. "Then you may dress me now. Familiar, leave us."

John slipped by Siesta out of the doorway, shooting her a roll of his eyes as he did so. The maid giggled.

"Is something funny, servant?" Louise said sharply.

"No, milady. I'm just so very giddy to be in your service now."

John grinned at that. Siesta's tone had been perfectly polite, but he could _feel_ the sarcasm of the statement.

"I see," Louise said, her voice pleased. "Well, it's perfectly natural. I do require a servant after all, and I can hardly ask my familiar to do such things."

Louise, it appeared, lacked such refined social senses. Or a sense of shame when dealing with people she thought beneath her.

_Hardly ask my familiar to do such things my ass_, he thought dryly, closing the door behind him.

Still, he was thankful that Siesta had agreed to help. When he'd gone to the kitchen the night before, he's been sure that he'd have to persuade her to take on the role. As it had turned out, he'd barely walked into the place before he'd been swamped by servants, each fighting to shake his hand and all but vibrating with questions. Apparently, his victory over Guiche had spread even faster than he'd imagined. The whole school knew, and the servants, commoners all, were holding him up as an idol. The commoner who'd defeated a noble in single combat, all to defend a beleaguered young maid from the abuse of the upper classes.

Suffice it to say, his actions had made him a friend of everyone in the school who held a broom or ladle. And Siesta…

Well, Siesta was infatuated with him. There was no point dancing around it. After he'd finally managed to fight his way through the crowd and find her, she'd practically jumped on him, thanking him profusely for helping her. When he'd asked her if she'd be willing to take on the role of Louise's personal maid as a favour, she'd eagerly agreed and the Head Maid, a large, buxom woman who'd slapped him on the back in a congratulatory manner more than once, had declared on the spot that she would pass the paperwork through the very next day. Siesta had then proceeded to stick to his side like glue for the rest of the impromptu party, blushing crimson the whole time. He'd barely been able to prise her off when he eventually left.

Overall, he supposed it wasn't that surprising that Siesta developed feelings for him. From an outside perspective, his actions yesterday would have appeared to have been intended to help her, rather than him letting his temper get the best of him. More than that, he'd defeated a noble. From the reactions of the staff and students, that was not something that happened often, if at all. In Siesta's eyes, he'd become some sort of paragon, an embodiment of the ability of the common man to rise up and challenge the nobility on their own terms.

It was however… somewhat discomforting. Siesta's infatuation was certainly useful. If he wanted, he could manipulate her easily now. It'd be like playing with putty. But he wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea. He'd played others for fools before, but they had always been enemies, or allies of convenience at most. Even his lie to Louise had been based around his caution in the strange world he'd found himself in. Siesta was just a young girl with simple feelings, plain as day to read. Taking advantage of that would be a far cry from making the Vegas Families dance like puppets.

After a moment's thought, he shrugged. There was nothing to be done about it now. It would pass with time anyway. And if need be, he wasn't going to let his better nature get in the way of practicality.

The door opened and Louise stepped out, now fully attired in her uniform. Siesta stood behind her.

"Now then, familiar," Louise said, her voice imperious. "We must be off. I have classes soon."

John sighed at her tone. Frankly, most of Louise's problems seemed to stem from a single source. She was terrible at dealing with people. She was condescending, abrasive and worst of all, incapable of understanding that other people had their own issues. This meant that she didn't talk to people as much as she should, which meant she became worse at talking to people. It was vicious cycle.

He'd hoped that introducing her to Siesta would improve her disposition and open her up a little, but apparently it had only served to bolster her pride. Maybe a maid hadn't been the best person to start with. Now she was going to be utterly insufferable for the rest of the day.

_Well, I suppose she's not going to get better overnight_, he thought resignedly. The important thing was to make her talk to people, preferably as equals.

"Very well, master." he replied. "Goodbye, Siesta. Give me a shout if you need anything."

The maid beamed. "I will. Have a lovely day, John. And you, milady." She curtsied deeply and then retreated back into the room to start cleaning.

"So, what do you think of Siesta?" John asked as they began walking down the corridor.

Louise gave him a confused look. "What do you mean? She's a maid. What's there to think about?"

John sighed again. Making Louise socially competent was going to be a long term project, it appeared.

Stepping into the classroom, John was immediately met with a rush of whispers. He wasn't surprised. The cafeteria had been the much same, with students alternately pointing at him, then talking quietly to each other behind raised hands.

He met the murmurs with a stoic face and stepped into the classroom, Louise right behind him. Taking a seat on the top row, they sat in silence, waiting for the teacher to arrive.

Little more than a minute later the door swung open, revealing a tall, dark-skinned redhead. She was quite beautiful too, with an ample figure and a certain lithe passion to her movements that caught the eye. More than her however, he was focused on the huge red lizard that was at her heels. He'd seen it a few times before and was still confused as to how it walked around with its tail on fire with no obvious discomfort. The simple answer was obviously 'magic', but that was a terrible answer. Things worked the way they did for reasons. He refused to believe that magic didn't have its own set of rules. He just had to work them out.

The redhead examined the rows of chairs one by one and then grinned in satisfaction when her eyes fell upon him. Apparently she'd been looking for him.

As she marched up the stairs, he noticed another girl moving behind her, as if hiding in her shadow. With her blue hair and slender frame, she seemed almost the polar opposite of the vivacious girl in front of her. She also had her head buried firmly in a book and was paying little attention to where she was going, apparently trusting the redhead to lead her.

"Hello there," the dark-skinned girl purred at him as she neared. "You made quite a display in your fight against Guiche.

John opened his mouth to reply, only to be cut off by Louise. "What are you doing here, Kirche?"

He blinked in surprise at the hateful tone in the pink-haired girls voice. Apparently, she and the redhead were not friends.

"Why, Louise, I was just saying hello to your familiar," Kirche said lightly. "His skills were so impressive yesterday, I simply couldn't wait to make his acquaintance."

Louise snarled. "Don't bother. He's not interested in making yours."

"I don't think that's your decision to make, Louise." Kirche turned to John, smiling widely. "My name, as you've just heard, is Kirche, of the Anhalt-Zerbst family. It's a pleasure to meet you."

John nodded. "The pleasure is mutual, Miss Kirche. My name is John Smith and- Is that a copy of 'Tristain: The Verdant Land'?"

Kirche and Louise blinked, then turned to face the blue-haired girl he'd suddenly spoken too. She looked up.

"Yes. Have you read it?"

John nodded eagerly. "Just yesterday. Have you reached the chapter where they discuss the new expansions to the southern fields?"

"I have. But I think they're overvaluing them," The girl said calmly.

"How so?"

"Such a large set of expansions will take months to properly set up. The fields nearer the border are smaller, but the operation is well constructed and the grapes are of the highest quality."

He shook his head. "But they're also known for their high quality. I'm just speaking from my own experience, but any small, valuable shipment is in more danger than a large pile of stock goods. They'd have to hire a small army to ensure the safety of their transports."

"Tristain is peaceful enough and has good relations with most of its neighbours. Banditry is negligible for the most part."

"What about those neighbours though? There's no profit until the goods have arrived at their destination. Passing through your own country is just the first step."

The blue-haired girl frowned. "It would depend on the country they're passing into… I will need to give this some thought."

"You do that," John said, giving a nod. "John Smith. It's nice to meet you."

"Charlotte Helene d'Orleans, First Princess of Gallia," The girl replied. "Call me Tabitha."

John gave her a surprised look, then dipped his head into a brief bow. "It's an honour to meet you, your Majesty."

"Don't bother with the formalities," Tabitha said, giving a dismissive wave. Then she grinned. "I'd rather hear your opinion on the eastern crop instead."

They watched each other for a moment, then burst into laughter.

Kirche and Louise stared at them.

"Well," Kirche said slowly. "I guess you two have introduced yourselves."

* * *

Despite her flippant attitude and fiery nature, Kirche had always thought of herself as an excellent judge of character. She had a natural ability to grasp the essence of a person with little more than a brief conversation. It was a talent that had served her well since coming to Tristain, where it was sometimes hard to know who could be trusted and who couldn't.

Which was why she was so confused right now. Louise's new familiar, John, seemed to delight in throwing her off.

When she'd watched him battle Guiche, he'd seemed like a warrior, motivated by a fierce lust for battle and savage in his ways. When he'd introduced himself, he had seemed gentle and polite, fir for the table of nobility. And then he'd almost immediately thrown himself into an economic discussion with Tabitha, a cheerful gleam in his eye as he discussed the exchange rate.

To be blunt, if she hadn't known better, she would have thought he was screwing with her. Which wasn't necessarily a bad thing. She would have just preferred that they got to know each other a little better first and that he did it more… physically.

Him getting on Tabitha's good side had been a surprise though. The blue-haired princess was highly practiced at fending off people she didn't want to talk to, affecting a detached air towards most of the student body. On the other hand, she was also highly competent at making friends with the people she wanted to, winding them around her fingers with a grace that Kirche almost wanted to applaud.

The question then, was whether he had slipped round her guard, or she had considered him worth befriending. Kirche wasn't sure which option was more interesting.

In the background, she vaguely heard Professor Colbert droning on and on about the basics of magic, but she ignored him. This lecture was mainly for the benefit of the students far behind the rest of the curve. If she hadn't known that Louise's familiar was going to be hear, she wouldn't even have bothered coming. She certainly wouldn't have dragged Tabitha with her.

John however, seemed absolutely riveted to what Colbert was saying, giving the man his undivided attention. She supposed that was fair enough. He was a commoner after all, and a rural one at that, if the rumours were true. No doubt this was the first he'd ever heard of how magic worked. Perhaps she should offer to… teach him personally? It wasn't like Louise could.

She wasn't the only person paying attention the man though. More than a few students kept glancing his way, looks of interest on their face. And Guiche couldn't take his eyes off of him, his face twisted into a strange expression. He didn't look angry though. More like contrite. Perhaps John had beaten a lesson into him.

She snorted. She'd believe that when she saw it. Guiche was inveterate flirt. He'd actually propositioned her more than once, though she turned him down. She preferred her men a little more intense.

"…and that's all for today." Colbert said, concluding the lecture. "If you need any help understanding the material, please feel free to ask me."

Most of the students immediately fled the classroom. To Kirche's surprise, Tabitha sidled up to John.

"You seemed interested in that lecture," Tabitha said, the question evident in her voice. John nodded.

"My master hadn't gotten around to explaining anything about magic yet, so this was quite enlightening for me."

Louise had the grace to look a little embarrassed at that. Not surprising, given how obvious the note of reproach in John's voice was.

"Truly?" Tabitha asked, her voice surprised. "Then perhaps you should get someone to teach you the more advanced materials. I believe Kirche is free this afternoon, if you're interested."

Kirche smiled languidly. Tabitha always did send the best presents her way. "I'd be happy to educate you, John."

"I'm quite capable of teaching my own familiar," Louise growled, shooting her a glare.

"Of course. But you aren't capable of demonstrating," Tabitha responded smoothly. "Or have things improved recently?"

_Ooooh. That was cold, Tabitha. _Kirche thought, wincing slightly. _Also true_.

Louise stood suddenly and opened her mouth before closing it, seemingly torn between her growing annoyance and the fact that this was a princess she was talking to.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, it was John who broke the deadlock. "I'd be happy to come for lessons, but perhaps Louise could accompany me? Simply so that she knows what I've been studying."

It was a smooth enough compromise, Kirche noted, sparing the pride of both parties. Which, naturally, meant that Louise was going to ruin it.

"There's no need for that, familiar," Louise stated firmly. "You shouldn't trouble the princess so."

"It's no trouble," Tabitha replied. "I'm interested in learning a little more about your familiar anyway. I'm surprised that a commoner would have such a robust knowledge of economic theory."

John smiled, a touch embarrassedly. "That's no grand secret. I'm something of a wanderer and have a tendency of picking up bits and pieces of knowledge here and there. And, of course, bandits are a problem no matter where you are."

"I can't imagine them being a problem for you," Kirche cut in. "Not if you fought like you did against Guiche."

John gave an amused chuckle at that. "Well, there do tend to be less problems wherever I am by the time I'm finished with my business."

"I'd be interested in hearing about it," Tabitha said, standing as she spoke. "Shall we meet in the library, perhaps two hours from now?"

Louise opened her mouth, no doubt to once again to foul up the whole conversation, but John cut smoothly across her.

"That sounds great," He replied, smiling lightly at the two of them. "Right, master?"

Louise shot him a glare, but then grudgingly nodded. "That sounds… lovely."

Kirche couldn't help but note that the last word was spat out with as much bile as could be slipped into it without actually it actually taking physical form.

Suddenly, there was a clatter of sound from the bottom of the stairs as the door swung open and a red faced servant stumbled into the room, breathing heavily. "Lady Vallière? Is Lady Vallière here?"

Louise blinked in surprise, then stood. "I am. What is the matter?"

The servant dipped into a bow. "There's a messenger waiting for you at the gates, milady. He's from the Palace."

* * *

John had to walk quite fast to keep up with Louise as she moved through the halls, practically skipping. No more than five minutes ago, her mood had been foul enough about his impromptu lessons with Kirche and Tabitha that he'd been expecting her to start trying to bite his head off the moment they walked out of the door.

Of course, the whole thing was entirely Louise's fault. If she'd simply taught him about magic to being with, there'd be no need for it. At any rate, the lecture had been exceedingly interesting, and had served to confirm his belief that there _were_ rules to magic. Though badly thought out ones.

The most fascinating thing had been the concept of Willpower, the mystical energy that each mage possessed that powered their spells. Most particularly, the fact that they only had a limited amount of it and casting too many spells would leave them drained and physically exhausted. That was an easily exploitable weakness, if a mage was in a position where he wasn't capable of just flat out killing them.

The Dot-Line-Triangle-Square Class Mage system was also interesting, if only because it allowed him to roughly gauge the power a noble possessed by reputation alone. Guiche, for instance, had been a Dot mage, which put him at the bottom of the pile. That begged the question of what exactly a Square class mage was capable of. Considering how surprised everyone had been when he'd defeated Guiche, a Dot, he could at least say that he probably didn't want to be on the receiving end of any spell they cast.

A cheerful humming sound drew his attention from his own thoughts and to his surprise, he realised that it was coming from Louise. He didn't think he'd ever seen her this… _perky_.

It was unsettling.

"I take it you know what this message is about?" He asked the girl, glancing at her face as he spoke. She was smiling too.

_Very _unsettling.

"Not exactly," Louise replied. "But I know its from Henrietta."

"Henrietta?"

"The Princess of Tristain."

John raised an eyebrow at that. "You know each other?"

"It's hardly unusual," Louise said, flicking her hair. "We're about the same age, and the Vallière's are a prestigious family. We were introduced at a young age. She's one of my closest friends."

You have friends? John nearly said, before quickly biting down on his tongue. He had the feeling that comment wouldn't help things.

As they made their way out into the courtyard, a well dressed man approached them. He was a somewhat unusual sight, with a pencil-thin moustache and hair trimmed right against his head. Looking at him, John couldn't help but be reminded of some of the more ostentatious members of the White Glove society.

More importantly, however, was the huge lizard behind him. It vaguely resembled a Gecko, in the same way that a Bloatfly resembled a Cazador. For one thing, it was huge, easily large enough for a man for to ride. Which, judging by the harness and tackle that had been placed around it, was indeed it's purpose. More than that, it had large wings tucked against it's flanks. John couldn't help but stare.

"Lady Vallière," The messenger said to Louise, bowing his head deeply. "I am Count Mott, messenger for Her Majesties Court."

"Count Mott," Louise replied, curtseying ever so slightly in greeting. "May I ask what this about?"

The man reached into his coat pocket and drew out a long, sealed roll of paper. "Her Majesty has charged me with delivering this message to you. Please, take it."

Louise took the sealed scroll gently, as if afraid it would crumble beneath her grip. "Thank you, Count Mott. You have performed your duty admirably."

Mott bowed again. "Thank you, milady. Now if you'll excuse me, I must return swiftly. There is much to be done at the Palace."

"Of course, Count Mott," Louise said, nodding in understanding. "Safe travels."

The Count bowed once more, then turned and mounted the huge lizard. He drove his spurred heels into its sides and with a great cry, the thing took into the sky off/

"What the hell was that?" John said, turning to Louise with a stunned look on his face.

"Hmm?" She answered, already picking at the seal. "It's a dragon. Royal messengers use them to get around quickly."

"A dragon."

"That's what I said."

John opened his mouth, then closed it again with a shrug. So apparently they had _dragons_. Why not? When he thought about it, a dragon wasn't much more bizarre than half the things he'd fought in his travels. Besides, just yesterday he'd been chastising Louise for not believing his stories of his own world, simply because she's never seen any of the things he'd been describing.

He, on the other hand, actually had just seen a dragon. Trying to pretend that it wasn't real wouldn't help anything.

"So, what does the letter say?" He asked, picking at his nails as he watched Louise.

The girl was silent for a moment as her eyes scanned the script, then suddenly, she squealed gleefully and looked up at him, an excited expression on her face.

"They're getting married!"

John blinked "Who is?"

"Henrietta and Wales!"

"And Wales is…?" John asked slowly, cocking his head at Louise.

"He's the Crown Prince of Albion. He and Henrietta have been engaged for years!"

"Then why is it a surprise that they're getting married?" John asked. The word 'engaged' brought a rush of memories with it, but he ignored them.

Louise waved a hand irritated at him. "Everyone knew they were going to _be_ married, but nobody knew _when_. They're going to announce it in a week, but Henrietta wanted me to know first!"

The pink-haired noble was practically beside herself with glee, dancing around the courtyard. John glanced around. It didn't look like anyone was paying attention to them, but Louise had been exceedingly loud.

"So when is it happening?" He asked. As she opened her mouth to reply, he held up a hand. "And be a little louder, please. I don't think they heard you in the library."

Louise flushed scarlet at that.

"Two months from now, in Albion," she murmured quietly, almost a whisper. "Henrietta's invited me to travel with her two weeks from now."

John scratched at his chin thoughtfully. A royal wedding was sure to be an interesting event by any standard. More than that, he could feel a familiar wanderlust rise up at the thought of travelling. At the same time though, such an event had its own concerns. Security for one thing. No doubt there'd be more than a few people playing the game of intrigue there, and he'd have to shield Louise from that. Not fun.

"I guess I'll have to research Albion," he said after a moment, sighing. Which meant less time looking for a way home. No way around it though. He doubted that he'd find a way home in less than a month and abandoning Louise at the first hurdle would just be foolish.

"Mmm," Louise agreed. "And we'll have to get you some better clothing. And a proper weapon."

He stared at her. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

"It looks like it's been through a war zone, John," She explained happily. "No. You need something far more stylish."

Well, that wasn't entirely wrong. The desert ranger gear was more than 200 years old. But it was also one of the most practical sets of armour he'd ever had the fortune to come across. The idea of exchanging it for some fancy cloth and a cape was not appealing.

"Louise, I can't guard you in a tuxedo," John said exasperatedly. "If I'm going, I'm going there to protect you."

Louise beamed at him. "And you will! But you have look good doing it!"

John sighed deeply. He had a feeling she wasn't going to let this drop.

* * *

The man pressed himself against the back of his dragon as it wheeled through the sky, the air whipping at him. Far below him the great sea that separated Albion from the mainland raged, caught in the midst of a storm.

His attention however, was on the dark cloud in front of him, thick and grey with rain. He ground his heels into the dragon's flanks and pulled on the reins. With a roar, the beast dove into the cloud.

For a moment, the man couldn't see a thing, his vision obscured by the thick moisture in the air. Rain buffeted him, drenching both himself and his mount in an instant. He cursed loudly, regretting that a moment later, when he got a mouthful of water for his efforts. Nevertheless, he pressed on.

It was no more than ten seconds later than he burst through to the core of the great cloud. In here, the air was calm and dry. Not so much as a breath of wind disturbed the And there, at the very core of the cloud, was a grand airship. The Redoubtable, flagship of the Reconquista. It floated gently, it's dark frame stark against the background of grey cloud.

No sooner had he spotted the ship than a trio of dragons leapt from it, approaching him at a breakneck pace. Their intent was clear. He cursed again, fumbling at his belt. Just in time he drew out the strange red stick that served as the signal that he was an ally. With a quick fire spell he lit it, turning the moisture that had coated it in his brief sojourn through the cloud to steam.

Instantly, it burst into a shower of emerald flame, blindingly bright. He held it up and wove it around desperately to attract the attention of the dragon riders fast approaching. To his relief, they split apart from their attack formation, instead moving to escort him.

He landed on the port side and leapt off of the dragon, quickly passing it's reins to a stable hand. "Take care of him. He's had a long flight."

The other man nodded, but he ignored him and took off at a run.

The messenger sprinted through the halls of the great ship, his feet clattering against the wooden planks. A few people gave him a curious glance, but most were too concerned with their own duties. Finally, he reached a door near the very centre of the airship, guarded by two robed men who tensed as he neared, hands gripping their staves.

"Halt!" One of the them shouted, holding up a warding hand. Instantly, the messenger skidded to a stop. The vigilance of these particular guards wasn't something he wanted to test. "Identification."

"Agent Green," he replied nervously, eyeing the guards. "I dwell in the court upon the scale."

The guards relaxed. The one on the right stepped forward, quickly patting him down. His pistol and knife were taken from him and the mage gave him a nod.

"Go right in, agent. Cromwell is expecting you."

The room he entered was uncomfortable dark, lit only by a single candle placed upon the centre of the table. Nevertheless, he could just make out the shapes that covered the walls. Scrolls and bits of paper were nailed to the wall, some marked with generous dabs of paint, others practically obscured

"Good evening, agent."

He spun. Adorned in well-cut black cloth, a naked blade across his lap as he sat with all signs of perfect ease upon his chair, Lord Cromwell cut an imposing figure. More than anything else, it was his mask that gave Agent Green pause, as it always did.

It was made from a dusty white material and covered Cromwell's entire face. His entire face. There were no holes cut for eyes or mouth. It was unnerving to look at, giving the impression that the man who wore it simply did not possess a face. More than a few wondered how Cromwell could even wear it, let alone fight with the proficiency he did. More than a few whispered that Cromwell was not human at all.

Faced with that empty visage, the agent couldn't help but give the rumours some credence.

"My Lord Cromwell," he said, falling to one knee. "I bring news from the palace."

"Speak."

Simple, direct lines. Typical of the Faceless Man.

"Prince Wales and Princess Henrietta are to be wed in Albion, 53 days from now, at noon."

"You are certain?"

"The agent who told me said that he had heard the Prince conversing with the palace Steward, my lord. And Agent Crimson rarely makes mistakes. I am certain."

"I see," Cromwell ran a gloved hand across the length of his blade. "You have done well, agent. In the coming days, you shall be rewarded. For now, return to your post. I shall need regular updates. No doubt Crimson will be busy. Keep in touch."

"As you say, my lord," Agent Green replied, bowing his head.

"Agent." The voice this time was thick and hoarse, as if the speaker had a dry throat. Green looked up.

If Cromwell embodied the subtle menace of the unknown, his companion and guard represented the threat of raw physical power. He towered over both the Faceless Man and Agent Green, even with his posture strangely hunched under the thick, concealing cloak he wore. When he moved, it was with the air of the consummate predator. Agent Green did not count himself an easy man to frighten, but in the presence of the cloaked figure, the hackles on the back of his neck rose.

"Lord Garth?" he replied, concealing his fear easily.

"Be careful, agent. If you feel you have been compromised, then flee. The Reconquista values what you have done for it. We would not see you perish."

"Thank you, Lord Garth," Green said.

He wasn't a fool. There was another meaning in what Garth had said. They had reached the point where new information was worth far less than the threat of discovery. That meant something big was coming.

He bowed again to both of them, then swept from the room. Once he'd left, Cromwell let out a long sigh.

"Did you really have to say that last part, Garth? Sir Edward is far more cunning than you give him credit for. No doubt he now knows we're planning something."

"He has worked hard. He deserves to know that he can flee at this point, if need be."

"Hmph," Cromwell said, his tone still clearly annoyed. He was silent for a moment, then slowly spoke. "Still… It's happening."

"We could never have stopped it. Not forever."

"No, but I'd been hoping for more time."

"Time to prepare?"

Cromwell shot the cloaked figure a glance. "Time to decide who lives and who must die. My preparations have been complete for months. Now I must simply discover how deep the cancer goes. And then excise it."

The cloaked figure shifted moving to the opposite side of the long table as Cromwell. "Do you believe the Prince…?"

The question hovered in the air, and Cromwell shook his head violently. "I cannot say for sure. There are too many events. Too many chances. Too many hunting trips and marriages and journeys!"

Cromwell's voice grew loud and angry and he stood, pacing around the room, an aura of frustration emanating from him.

"Oliver…" Garth said calmingly.

Cromwell sighed, releasing a wave of tension. "Perhaps he is one of them. Perhaps not. But…"

"We can't risk it."

"Exactly."

Silence reigned between them for a moment and then Garth shook his head mournfully. "This will be bloody work."

"The bloodiest," Cromwell agreed. "But it must be done. And I would spill twice as much too see it so. Which leads me to something I've been meaning to discuss with you."

He reached into his pocket and drew out a large scroll, tightly wrapped and sealed with plain wax. Garth watched it bemusedly. "What is that?"

"Everything," Cromwell said solemnly. "Everything I know about _them_, as well as those who oppose them. The lineages, the hideaways, those who are compromised, those who are not, the meetings, the conspiracies… It is incomplete. Horribly so. There is still so much that I do not know. But it is all there is."

"This is… unusual for you," Garth said slowly. "You are one to hide away information behind layers of secrecy, not have it all collected in one place."

"Our work is too important for it to end with my death," Cromwell said, his voice steady. "Should I fall, there must be someone who knows _everything. _The Reconquista must continue its struggle. You are the only one I can trust with this, Garth."

"I would be a poor leader," the figure said, his fierce voice thick with amusement, but also a note of realization as the true weight of what Cromwell was saying became apparent.. "A giant hidden beneath a cloak? Few would follow such a figure."

"As few would follow a man who hides behind a mask?" Cromwell countered. "These are strange times for all, Garth. If need be, you may find another to lead in your place. I do not think it will be necessary though. You are known to those who matter."

Garth hesitated. "If I take this… You must promise me. Promise me that you will not value your life less, in the belief that your cause is now safe."

"You have my word, old friend."

Slowly, the cloaked figure stepped forward, his weight causing the planking to groan beneath him. A huge hand slipped out from under the cloak, covered in mottled grey scales where soft skin would have been on a normal man. Its long fingers were tipped with vicious claws and it's reach was far greater than any human, easily stretching across the table. On the back of its hand was a series of strange, arcane looking markings, carved into the flesh with incredible precision. Gently, the claw grasped the scroll between two digits and drew it back within the cloak.

"Then," the Deathclaw said, his voice both savage and erudite in equal measure. "I shall simply hope that this is never needed."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Another big chapter that doesn't really need the padding of a stat sheet. Oh well. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 4:**

John watched the ball of fire floating in the air with interest. Kirche was guiding it with her wand, her every movement causing the flame to sway and dance. It was almost hypnotic to watch, even in the midday sun.

Despite the news of the Royal Wedding, he'd been sure to remind Louise of the planned lesson with Kirche and Tabitha as it neared the time they'd arranged to meet. It had taken some persuading to get her to come, but eventually she'd cracked and agreed to follow him. Complaining about how it was a waste of time and they should be preparing for the wedding the whole way of course, but he'd expected that. It wasn't a problem anyway. He was getting quite good at ignoring her.

As it had turned out, it had definitely proven worth the time. Tabitha and Kirche were exceedingly knowledgeable on the subject of magic and perfectly happy to answer any questions he had. Even Louise had occasionally broken her annoyed silence to explain a few details to him. It hadn't taken him long to get a solid grounding of knowledge.

With a flick of her wand, Kirche dismissed the flame and smiled at him. "And that's about all I can show you in here. It wouldn't be a pretty sight if the librarian caught me using Fire magic in the library."

"I can imagine," John said wryly. When Kirche had first conjured the fireball, he'd half-way expected that he was going to have to rush for a bucket of water very shortly afterwards. But her control had been quite excellent, and the fire had never so much as come close to touching so much as a single book. "Still, it was quite interesting. And very different from what Guiche did."

Kirche smirked. "Naturally. Guiche's talents lie very much in the Earth element however, and even then mostly in his own family's speciality. Such subtle control of fire is beyond him." She paused, considering. "Or most students at this school, really. I'm quite exceptional."

"Please Kirche," Tabitha said, her voice dry. "Don't be so humble."

"I'm simply saying it as it is," Kirche replied. The redhead smiled at John. "Tabitha would never admit it, but she's actually quite a prodigy herself."

"It's not that I won't admit it," Tabitha said firmly, "But rather that I don't feel the need to boast about it constantly like _some other people_ do."

John fought back a grin as he watched them. Beneath the barbed comments they occasionally threw at each other, there was an air of easy camaraderie that spoke of a long friendship. It vaguely reminded him of Raul and himself. Although he and Raul had been a great deal more prolific in their use of casual insults, to the point that was all that conversations between them had tended to contain.

"Are we done now?" Louise said, her voice thick with irritation. "Can we go?"

Tabitha and Kirche glanced at each other and John could practically see the unspoken words flashing between them.

"Is there somewhere you need to be, Louise?" Tabitha asked calmly, a slight hint of ice in her tone. John sighed. It seemed like Tabitha had just about had enough of putting up with Louise's attitude for one day. From the look on Kirche's face, she had similar feelings on the matter.

"No, I'm just getting a little bored of listening to knowledge that I've known for years."

"Well, I didn't know any of it," John said quickly, cutting across Kirche as she opened her mouth to reply, no doubt with an acidic comment. "So, my thanks to you two."

He gave Kirche and Tabitha a grateful nod.

"It wasn't a problem," Tabitha replied. "You're a quick learner."

"If you ever need any more... lessons, then feel free to visit me in my room," Kirche added, her voice a purr. "I'll be happy to help."

John smiled at the heavy-handed double entendre. He had a sneaking suspicion that the lessons Kirche had in mind didn't have much to do with magic.

Louise was glaring at all of them. "So we're done now? We can go?"

John frowned. There was an odd tone in Louise's voice, beneath the obvious annoyance, almost like panic. For some reason, she seemed almost desperate to get away from Kirche and Tabitha. That was strange. She'd been fine with them for the past hour, if a little moody.

He considered that for a moment, before realisation struck.

_Ah_, he thought. _That explains it_.

Kirche and Tabitha were highly skilled mages. In fact, they were quite possibly the most talented students in the school. And Louise was the Zero, the student who's very ability to use magic at all was considered questionable, let alone her ability to do anything useful with it. Their very presences aggravated her. Their light-hearted jokes about their magical abilities, not even aimed at Louise, had been enough to set her off.

Which wasn't that surprising, in retrospect. Louise had an ego that had the unfortunate trait of being both oversized and exceedingly fragile. He'd need to try and get her over that as soon as possible. Handling her with kid gloves all the time was just going to be too exhausting.

The crux of the whole matter seemed to be Louise's magical talent, which wasn't living up to anyone's expectations, least of all her own. Virtually everyone thought that she was basically incapable of making anything more than an explosion. And even that unreliably.

Which was, quite frankly, bullshit.

She'd pulled him from _another world_. Not some volcano or forest a few hundred miles away, but an actual goddamn separate planet. Maybe even a different plane of reality. Louise didn't seem to have caught onto it yet, but her very act of summoning him had been perhaps the most impressive display of magic in history. If nothing else, it proved she wasn't lacking for magical power.

Her grasp of magical theory seemed solid enough too, judging by her interjections during Tabitha and Kirche's explanation. Realistically, there was no reason why she shouldn't be a perfectly capable mage. There had to be something they were all missing.

After a moment, he shrugged. He could figure it out later.

"Yes, I think so," he said to Louise. "Thanks again, Tabitha, Kirche."

"Don't mention it," Kirche replied, standing up. "I should probably check on Flame anyway. He isn't allowed into the library."

Not exactly surprising, given that the salamander had a tail that was literally on fire. On top of being a large, predatory lizard.

They opened the large door that led out of the library. As they stepped out into the corridor, the salamander perked it's head up from its resting place on the floor, reptilian eyes flicking across the whole group, before coming to rest on John. He matched its gaze steadily. Technically that was probably something akin to a challenge, but he wasn't overly worried. It was a big lizard, but he'd seen bigger. He'd killed bigger.

"Ah, John," Kirche said quietly, leaning towards him. "You really shouldn't stare into a salamander's eyes."

Suddenly, the salamander rose to its feet and approached him, its gaze never wavering. Kirche stared at it, even as Louise and Tabitha backed away. "Flame, what are you doing-"

The crimson lizard rose on its hind legs, muscles rippling beneath its scales as it stood. Its mouth opened, revealing a row of razor sharp teeth, glistening in the light. The threat in its posture was obvious, the imminent attack even more so. John just continued to watch it steadily.

And then Flame relaxed, all the wariness simply rushing out of its stance. It extended a single claw towards him. John shook it.

"Good boy," John said, smiling. He lowered himself down to one knee and instantly the lizard hurled itself at him, longue tongue slobbering at his face like an overgrown hound. He laughed, desperately trying to fend off the now affectionate animal. "Ahaha! Stop it, you lump! You're drooling all over me!"

Finally, he managed to grab it in a headlock and began grinding his knuckles into its head. "There we go! How do you like it, you bastard!?"

The salamander struggled desperately to free itself, but John just tightened his grip.

"Not a chance. You aren't getting out until you give in!" He laughed freely.

"Uh, John?"

John blinked. He looked up. Kirche, Tabitha and Louise were all staring at him, mixed looks of shock and surprise on their faces. Kirche in particular just looked flabbergasted. John's grip on the lizard slackened as he realised that he'd been completely ignoring the noble girls for the past minute, and Flame ceased struggling, peering up at him as if to ask why he'd stopped playing.

Caught between the playful salamander and the girl's shocked expressions, John just shrugged a trifle embarrassedly, even as the lizard snuggled against him.

"What? I like animals."

* * *

Kirche flopped down onto her bed, her face twisted thoughtfully. Idly, she brushed a stray lock of hair off of her face and stared at the ceiling.

"Well," she said. "That was interesting."

Tabitha looked up from her seat by the open window and nodded in agreement. "More than interesting. I don't think I've ever seen Flame so... playful."

"Oh, he's a big softy really," Kirche said, waving her hands dismissively. "But I suppose he is a bit cautious around strangers."

Tabitha gave an amused snort. That was an understatement. The salamander had only been summoned two days ago, but he'd already made it clear that the only person he liked was Kirche, and everyone else was to _just barely_ tolerated. After the first few students had only just avoided having their hands bitten off, they'd stopped trying to pet him. Most of the other familiars also went out of their way to avoid Flame, sometimes to the point of actually hiding when they thought the salamander was nearby.

Of course, Sylphid was an exception to that rule, being both relentlessly friendly and possessing an ability to read another's mood that was roughly on par with the average brick. Tabitha suspected that Flame truly hated her familiar, but had so far been unwilling to risk attacking something that was four to five times larger than him.

Indeed, when he'd approached John, she'd been sure that they were just about to be witness to a fight. Instead, they'd decided to play-wrestle, and the proud, aggressive salamander had taken on a persona more commonly associated with puppies. They'd had to practically drag him away.

She glanced at the lizard. He was staring at the door, as if hoping that John was going to burst through it any second now.

"John is certainly a unique character though," Kirche continued. The redhead sat up on the bed. "I want him."

Tabitha winced, flushing slightly. "Do you have to be so blunt?"

"Yes."

Tabitha sighed. "Ah. Of course. How silly of me to ask."

"I thought you knew me by now, Tabitha," Kirche said, laughing. "In this case though, I didn't only mean it like that."

Tabitha ignored the 'only'. While she truly considered Kirche a dear friend, she couldn't but wish that the Germanian noble would control her passions a little more. "Then what do you mean?"

Kirche's face grew a little more serious as she replied. "Louise doesn't deserve someone as talented as that. And John deserves more than someone like Louise."

Tabitha frowned. Truth be told, while she wasn't particularly fond of Louise, she didn't hate her either. The Valliere's were an elite family even amongst the nobility and failing to live up to their expectations was obviously taking its toll on her. Louise's frustration was understandable.

That wouldn't stop her from snapping back at the girl when she pushed too far, but still. She could understand.

And John... John was interesting. He was intelligent, almost frighteningly so. When you told him something, he grasped it instantly. She'd expected the earlier lesson to take three or four hours, but he'd simply mowed through the material she'd prepared in advance in less than an hour. It was almost disconcerting to watch how easily he picked up knowledge.

He was an obviously skilled warrior too. There was a certain confidence in his voice too, one that drew you in, made you believe and trust in his words even when there was no reason for you to do so. When he spoke, you listened. All in all, he was far more impressive than the humble vagrant he professed to be. He could pretend all he liked, but Tabitha knew someone exceptional when she saw them. He was worth watching.

After a moment, she shrugged. "I don't know. John seems like a good influence on her. If nothing else, he knows how to keep her sharp tongue from getting her in trouble."

"But that's such a waste!" Kirche said loudly. The frustration in her voice was evident. "You saw what he was like in his fight with Guiche. That strength. That passion... And you want to leave him to patch over Louise the Zero's social mistakes?"

"It's not like we have a choice," Tabitha replied. "He's her familiar. What happens between them is their business. We have no right to try and interfere, even if we wanted to. Which, it seems I must make clear to you; I have no desire to do."

Kirche threw herself onto her back and groaned loudly. "You're such a spoilsport, you know that?"

"I thought you knew me by now, Kirche," Tabitha said, grinning.

Kirche threw a pillow at her at that.

"Now that's just being childish," Tabitha said chidingly, dodging round the missile. "And your aim is terrible."

Kirche opened her mouth to reply only to receive an expertly thrown pillow to the face. She glared indignantly at the blue haired princess. "Oh, it's on now."

For a few minutes, anarchy rained as pillows were tossed about, the two girls frantically ducking and dodging. In front of the door, Flame ignored them, instead focusing on the door. Once or twice his tail twitched in annoyance when a missed pillow bounced off of him, but for the most part he remained aloof of the whole conflict.

Eventually, a truce was declared and the two girls collapsed onto the bed. They glanced at each other, then burst out laughing.

After a few moments, Kirche finally calmed down enough to speak. "So, are you still leaving next week?"

Tabitha nodded, still breathing heavily from the battle that had gripped the room only a minute earlier. "I have to. My uncle is on a tight schedule. Even if I ride on Sylphid, next week is the latest I can leave to catch up with him."

"Well, give my regards to anyone you think should get them," Kirche said lazily. "I trust your judgement."

"You really can't come?"

"Oh, I'd love to come," Kirche said, smiling somewhat bitterly. "I just suspect that my family would object. No doubt they'd prefer a more... respectable candidate to pay their respects at such an august occasion."

Tabitha couldn't help but scowl at that. "You could come as my guest. Uncle Joseph could make the arrangements-"

"Don't be ridiculous, Tabitha," Kirche replied. "It's hardly worth asking the king of Gallia to make room for me on the guest list."

"It's not an issue," Tabitha said firmly. "Without Uncle Joseph's support, there wouldn't even have been a wedding. He could invite his entire court and they wouldn't object."

"Well..." Kirche hesitated. Tabitha fought down a smile. The idea of missing a party, especially one as prestigious as a royal wedding, was abhorrent to Kirche. No doubt this internal conflict would be a short one. "I suppose I can hardly leave you alone in such a situation. You need me to protect you from the ravenous young noblemen."

"By distracting them with yourself, I'd imagine?"

"It's a sacrifice I'm willing to make for you, dear Tabitha," Kirche said easily.

Honestly, Tabitha couldn't say she was unhappy with that. Having to fend off suitors was always aggravating. Having Kirche around made the point moot, since the flirtatious redhead tended to be the centre of male attention in whatever room she was in.

"Oh."

Tabitha blinked at that and turned back to Kirche. "What is it?"

"I suppose Louise will be there too, won't she?"

"It wouldn't surprise me," Tabitha said. "From what I've heard, she and Princess Henrietta are childhood friends."

"Then that means John will be there too?"

Tabitha sighed. You certainly couldn't fault Kirche for lacking focus. "If Louise is? Almost certainly. Dare I ask why you want to know?"

"Do I really need to explain?" Kirche asked, raising an eyebrow. "The weeks leading up to a wedding... Tension in the air, infecting all around... Suddenly, a noble lady and a commoner begin a steamy relationship under the stars, their love and passion beyond all description... Isn't it just perfect?"

Tabitha sighed again.

* * *

Dr Borous watched the tower displayed on the monitor before him with a mixture of apprehension and glee. Scientific and very serious glee, of course.

Standing nearly fifty feet tall, the metal construct was composed of thick, metal cylinders, held together by welded bars of steel. Occasionally, a thin burst of electricity would crackle off of it, as an unfortunate insect got too close and was instantly turned into a small puff of dust.

The whole thing practically _radiated_ raw, unadulterated science. An excited shiver ran through Borous's bio gel at the sight.

Nevertheless, he couldn't quite repress the faint, niggling concern in the few parts of his brain that hadn't undergone some degree of bio gel corrosion. While the tower was certainly an impressive sight, he'd feel a lot safer if he knew what it did.

Mobius, Dala and Klein had practically sequestered themselves while they planned it, before suddenly press-ganging most of the robo-scorpions into construction duty. Which, Borous had to admit, they were very good at. One moment he'd been looking at a sample of Deathclaw DNA, the next there was a fifty foot tower smack in the centre of the Big MT, shooting lightning at anything that came close.

Next to him, Klein was nodding his eye screens in satisfaction. "I've truly outdone myself this time. Who would have thought that a single, lone scientist could develop a fully functioning dimensional radar tower? Well, apart from me naturally. I always knew I had it in me."

A dimensional radio tower? Borous remembered the last thing they'd built with the word 'dimensional' in it. It had caused half of the herd of Brahmin he'd acquired to spontaneously vanish and appear three hundred feet in the air above the Mohave. The front half.

"I seem to recall that I played a not insignificant part in it's construction, Dr. Klein," Dala said sharply. "As did Dr. Mobius."

"Oh, I'll be sure to accredit you as assistants," Klein assured her, in the tone of one who had no such intention.

"Just like you accredited Wan Shun, right?"

Klein spun. "Mr Wan Shun left of his own volition after being discovered stealing funds! I _know_ I deleted all audio files to the contrary!"

"Stealing funds?" Dala said. The think tank's voice was thick with derision. "He bought a toothbrush, Klein. Which you then gave to Dr. Borous!"

Borous had very much appreciated it. Gabe's plaque had been building up terribly, what with the Psycho injections causing him to attack anything vaguely organic and non-Borous at the time. He'd needed a thorough cleaning.

"It's all about principle! First a toothbrush, yes, but where does it end? A wrench? A screwdriver? Perhaps even a _spanner_!?

"All of which are legitimate expenses!"

Klein sighed. "The point is, Dr. Dala, it happened two hundred years ago. The truth is lost to time-"

"Actually, I'm pretty sure I have some backup files on the whole thing-" Dr. 0 began.

"_Lost to time_," Klein said firmly. "And so I do not appreciate your snide remarks, Dr. Dala."

Dr. Dala's voice unit practically shook with indignation as she gathered herself to tell Dr. Klein exactly what she thought of his opinion. Perhaps fortunately, 0 took that moment to cut into the conversation.

"So what does it do?"

"What does it do? What does it _do_!?" Klein's voice was outraged as he spoke. "Dr. 0, you are looking at an instrument of pure science! The dimensional radio tower is perhaps the greatest achievement of the entire Think Tank! It is the only means of saving our benefactor, John Smith! It's workings are complex, it's power needs vast! And you ask what it does!?"

"Yes."

"Oh. It... it does many things! Things with portals and electricity and lightning galore!"

"More specifically," Mobius said, spinning round to face the rest of the Think Tank. "It opens a dimensional rift, through which it can send it's signal so as to ensure that it reaches it's destination instantly, regardless of anything that might attempt to interfere with it. With it, we should be able to send messages to John, as well as receive them in turn, no matter where he is. "

Mobius pause, his monitors twisting into an approximation of a thoughtful frown. "I think. That, or it just shoots lightning at things that come close. Or maybe both, come to think of it."

"Well said, Dr. Mobius." Klein's monitors bobbed in relief as he spoke.

"So, is it safe?" Borous asked.

"Progress is never safe, Dr. Borous," Klein said, his voice haughty. "Unless it not being safe may in some way endanger us. Which is why we're watching this through a monitor while sitting in the middle of what amounts to a bomb shelter."

The other members of the Think Tank nodded approvingly at that. Science was at it's best when you were a safe distance away from any possible explosions.

"So..." Mobius said after the moment of self-appreciation ahd passed. "Can I push the button?"

"No!" Klein said, raising the volume on his voice module to max. "I will press the button! It is my duty as Project Leader."

"Actually, I believe the term is 'ladies first'?" Dala said primly, floating next to them.

"Hold on!" Borous said loudly. "As you three built this, I think it's only fair that someone else get to press the button."

"That doesn't even make sense!"

As the members of the Think Tank began squaring up for another argument, they were cut off by a shrill, whistle. Klein blinked.

"What was that?"

"That... was the activation siren for the dimensional radio tower." Mobius said slowly.

As one they turned. Dr. 8 gave them an unashamed look, one of his monitors pressed firmly down against the large red button on the panel in front of him.

"Dr. 8!" Klein said, his voice shocked. "How dare you?"

8 shot back a stream of RobCo sound waves.

Klein gasped. "Now that was just uncalled for!"

On the monitor, the tower was beginning to crackle, arcs of raw power playing around it as it charged. Monitors lit up, and miles of circuitry began to process the data being beamed to the tower. The Think Tank stopped talking, their attention drawn to the screen.

The electricity continued to build up until it practically obscured the tower beneath a corona of light. Beneath the crackling lightning, metal grew white hot as it was superheated by the sheer intensity of the power it was trying to channel. Cooling fluids bubbled and became vapour, and slowly the circuitry inside the tower began to heat up.

And then, with a great roar, a blast of light roared into the sky, shredding the clouds that obscured the night sky. As it reached up it, it spread, covering the sky in an aura of white lightning. Beneath that sky of unbridled power, the Big MT was lit up as if dawn had arrived before it's time. The living inhabitants of the grounds ran for cover, hiding beneath anything they could, anything that would shield them from the baleful glare of the storm of energy above.

In the midst of that white sky, a single point glowed with an intensity that eclipsed the surrounding area. Space rippled and shuddered as the raw power of the Think Tank's machine tore at it, shredded it. With a great ripping sound, a bright window began to form in the midst of the storm of energy.

Its light was not akin to the chaotic power that spilled around, but was instead regulated. Controlled. It was a representation of the genius of the Think Tank, decayed and maddened as it was. It was sublime, lit with the promise of a whole new world hidden behind it.

And then, with a shriek of metal pushed far beyond its limits, the tower exploded.

Huge chunks of metal shrapnel shot off from the destroyed building, propelled at speeds far surpassing supersonic by the unleashed electromagnetic forces that the tower had controlled only a moment before. They tore into the Big MT, their raw velocity alone enabling them tear new craters into the already blasted landscape. The rock was torn open, exposing the frames of underground laboratories to the open air. A group of nighstalkers were caught in the middle of one impact and reduced to little more than a bloody smear. Another chunk of the tower smashed into the Dome, but failed to so much as dent the reinforced structure.

It did, however, shock the Think Tank, who's gazes all shot up. For a moment, there was silence.

"Well then," Klein said slowly. "Did it work?"

Mobius stared at him for a second, then looked down at the reading on the monitors. "Actually, I... I think it did. Before the tower gave way, there were definite signs of a successful rift being formed."

"Excellent." Klein said, nodding his monitors in a pleased fashion. "Then I think we can call this a rousing success!"

* * *

John relaxed in the middle of the courtyard, lounging on a bench. A cool breeze played against his skin, countering the heat of the day with ease. With a casual movement, he slipped a bottle from the pouch on his belt and took a long, draught. The fresh, clear water felt good.

His gaze slipped around the courtyard. It was mostly empty, barring a few students at the corners of the lawn. He couldn't help but be struck once again by how… pleasant it all was. A green land, full of life. The poses of the students were relaxed, free of worry or concerns. Even the commoners, resentful of their positions as they seemed to be, lived a quality of life that was beyond what most of the inhabitants of the Mojave had had. Three guaranteed meals, safety and work that was easy enough, if dull. There were people who would gladly surrender their freedom for such things.

He smiled cynically at that. But that had been the Legion's way of things, hadn' it? Safety and civilization for all, as long as you bowed your head to the Bull. Forget who you were, forget who you could be. Simply acknowledge your place in the world and praise Caesar, and you would be provided for. So went the rhetoric, though the reality had been different.

It was easy to see similarities between the slave army and Tristain. Role and purpose decided by blood, not merit. The value of a life decided from the moment of its birth, an entire system in place to keep it so. Drawing parallels wasn't hard.

There were differences, of course. From what he'd seen, the nobility at least pretended towards valuing the common folk more than the Legion had their slaves. In the territories of the Legion, beating a slave to death in plain sight wouldn't have caused most to bat an eyelash. Here, there seemed to be some modicum of respect afforded to the peasantry. They were considered human, if nothing else.

But in the Mojave… In Vegas… What decided your standing was talent and skill. A man with a gun and a will could carve out a place for himself. Even his own position, as absolute as he had worked to make it, was only his for as long as he could hold it. Of course, no-one had dared to challenge him for rulership, and perhaps no-one ever would. But the point was that it could be done, like it could be done to any man.

And had kept him, that had kept _everyone_, on their toes. If you had held a position of power in New Vegas, then you had_ earned_ it, whether by strength or wit or wisdom. And you knew that there were others gunning for the spot. If you performed your duties badly, or abused your power, there was always another happy to take it from you.

Hell, he'd had more than few who'd taken the privileges of their positions too far removed from those positions. By force if need be. In truth, the Mojave had been anarchic to look at, held in check only by his own will and the Securitron armies.

And yet, it had thrived. Trade had blossomed, once-desolate villages had become bustling towns and even the most daring raiders hesitated in the face of his Securitrons. Freeside had changed from slum to thriving suburb. The Followers of the Apocalypse had set up schools and libraries, educating a populace in dire need of precisely that.

Vegas, shining Vegas, had drawn ever closer to its days of pre-war glory, its lights growing brighter and more blinding. No longer a corpse in pretty clothing as it had been under House, but a living, breathing city.

It hadn't been easy. The early days of his rule had been filled with struggle. His dreams of a free Vegas had clashed with the reality of the world he found himself in. The Mojave had still teemed with danger, the NCR had still had its greedy eyes fixed on Hoover Dam and the remnants of the Legion had been an ever present threat.

There'd been more sleepless nights than he cared to count. More days spent in the wasteland, hunting raiders and resolving disputes between communities. Hurried meetings with members of the Three Families. Political skirmishes with the NCR. Building trade routes. Setting up patrols. Struggle. Loss. Conflict. Mourning.

But he'd done it. The NCR had been calmed, their citizens once again streaming into Vegas, and their caps into his pocket. The Mojave had been made safe, his Securitrons personally escorting caravans across the roads. The shards of the broken Legion had been driven from his land. And he had been left with a land of independence and chaos, of virtue and depravity, of self-determination and anarchy.

And _he had made it work._

"What are you looking at?"

He blinked as Louise spoke up from next to him, drawn from his thoughts. "Hmmm?"

Louise frowned. "I said, what are you looking at?"

"Nothing much," he said. "Just thinking that the weather's lovely."

"It is," Louise agreed. "Perfect for a visit to the city, wouldn't you say?"

John sighed. He was quite interested in seeing what a city in this world looked like, but Louise's intentions were transparent. "And I suppose you have a destination in mind? Specifically, to hazard a guess, a clothes store?"

Louise's expression went blank for a moment and John smiled. Bullseye.

"Well, why not?" Louise asked after a moment. Her tone was annoyed "It needs to be done."

"No," John replied firmly. "It doesn't."

Louise stamped her foot. "Familiar, I cannot have you appear before the Princess dressed in… in… that!"

She gestured at his armour, a disdainful expression on her face. He had to admit that she had something of a point. His desert ranger gear was several hundred years old and had certainly seen better days. He'd patched it up quite extensively over the last ten years, but there was no doubting that it looked more than a little ragged.

On the other hand, it was also one of the most practical suits of armour he'd even encountered, with defence nearing that of Power Armour, without the aggravating weight of the latter. He had few better suits of armour, and he rarely wore them if all he was doing was going our ranging the Mojave. A mistake in this case.

Still, this was the best he had on him. He wasn't going to swap it out for some random set of party wear. It seemed he was going to have to make that clear.

"And I can't guard you properly if I'm dressed up like a goddamn White Glove," John countered. "The Princess will just have to bear with it."

Louise stared at him in shock, before a dark, angry look swept over her face. "Familiar, I am ordering you to-"

"No. You don't get to do that."

Louise blinked at him in surprise as he cut across her, and he leant in towards her. Now it was his face that was twisted in anger.

"Remember that deal we made? That we would be equals? Yes? Well, that means you don't get to order me to do _shit_. You don't even get to _try_. Are we understood?"

A mix of warring emotions played over Louise's face as he spoke. Anger, frustration, fear. That was good. She should fear him. Part of her problem was that she'd never had to deal with situations like these. People either avoided her, or were her obvious social superiors. Either way, she'd never been opposed by a peer, an equal. Not like this. Not a direct battle of wills.

He couldn't help but wonder if having this conversation in an open area was a good idea. Originally, he'd been planning on playing the dutiful familiar that Louise had always wanted in public after all. Increasingly though, he was coming to suspect that what Louise actually needed was someone to challenge the way she thought. Just trying to get her to open up through friendly means wasn't going to work. Her behaviour with Tabitha and Kirche earlier had made that clear.

"Fine," Louise said eventually, looking sharply to the side. "I'll just have to beg Henrietta's forgiveness for your appearance."

John fought back a grin. The noble was only making baby steps, but it was progress regardless. "You do that."

Now it was time change the pace of the conversation. Keep her unbalanced. Keep her learning. Suddenly, he poked her sharply in the shoulder.

Louise gave a small shriek of surprise, then rubbed the point he'd poked, glaring at him while she did so.  
"What was that!?"

"You see, that wouldn't have hurt as much if you'd been wearing armour," John said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Maybe we should go to the city after all. Buy you some leather armour or something."

Louise stared at him in horror. "Leather-? I can't wear leather armour in front of Henrietta!"

"I don't see why not. It's very practical," John replied. He looked at her face for a moment, then sighed. "Fine, fine. No leather armour."

"Of course no leather armour!"

"On a completely unrelated note, what's your opinion on plate mail?"

"I can't wear it!"

"You are a bit fragile looking," John admitted. "Maybe a brigandine?"

"No!"

"You're not making this easy for me."

"I don't want to make it easy for you! I'm not wearing armour in front of the Princess! You're the one who wears armour!"

"Why, thank you. I do look good in it, don't I?"

Louise's face was practically red with embarrassment and anger as she glared at him. Oh, this was fun. He should have started doing this sooner.

"Um, excuse me…?"

Both of them wheeled on the speaker.

Guiche stood there, recoiling slightly from their attention. Or mostly John's attention.

"What is it, Guiche?" Louise asked, her voice snappish.

Guiche's eyes flicked to John, as if asking for permission to speak. John nodded slightly and then spoke. "Is something the matter?"

"Well, not exactly," Guiche said, voice hesitant. "It's just that I couldn't help but overhear your conversation…"

John raised an eyebrow. That wasn't surprising. Louise was many things, but quiet was not among them.

"…And I was wondering if I could offer my assistance," Guiche continued. "As an apology for my behaviour yesterday."

Now this was surprising. He hadn't expected the noble to actively seek him out to make amends. "Rather than me, I think there are a few others that you should apologise to."

Guiche nodded. "I've already begged Montmorency and Katie for their forgiveness. I was fortunate enough to receive it, though not without… some difficulty."

He held up a hand to his right cheek. It was rather red and swollen, as if someone had slapped it several times. Next to him, Louise raised an eyebrow, apparently amused. John didn't even bother to hide his smile at the sight. "And Siesta?"

"The maid?" Guiche asked, his voice hesitant. "I asked for forgiveness and she gave it, but…"

"She could hardly have not have done so, correct?"

"Indeed." Guiche admitted reluctantly. "My position would demand that she accept my apology, regardless of her feelings on the matter."

John sighed. "Next time, I'll come with you. If I'm there, she might feel a bit more confident about slapping you as well."

"I… would be very grateful for that," Guiche said slowly. To John's surprise, the noble didn't appear to be lying. "I know you will find this hard to believe, but I did learn a lesson in our duel. One that I will not forget."

"I see," John said, nodding his head. "So you've stopped two-timing?"

"What? Uh, well…" Guiche rubbed the back of his head nervously. "…Not quite?"

John laughed at that. Still, it was genuinely surprising that the young nobleman had gotten so much out of a short duel and a few threats. It might be possible that there was actually a decent human being under the veneer of the inveterate flirt.

"Well, that's not my business. Just try and be a bit more subtle," he said after a moment. "Anyway, you were offering to help us?"

"Indeed," Guiche said, smiling widely. "You see, I heard that you needed armour and clothing for a royal presentation-"

"Wait, you heard that?" Louise said, her voice panicked. "How much of the conversation did you eavesdrop on!?"

"I wouldn't say I eavesdropped-"

"Tell me!"

Guiche held up his hands. "Not much! Just enough to know that you are going to meet with the Princess at some point in the future. I don't know why."

"He's telling the truth, Louise," John said calmly. "You never mentioned the reason."

Louise relaxed slightly. "All right then. Go on."

Guiche nodded cautiously. "Well, my family happens to frequently patronise several local armouries and clothiers. I would happily ask them to sell you their premium stock. They don't normally sell it to anyone outside a very specific group. There are a few stores with craftsmen who can rival the royal smiths, if you know where to look."

Louise smiled widely. "That sounds like an excellent idea."

John sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. "Guiche, if you're trying to apologise to me, then giving me a gift I actually want tends to be a good start."

"Don't worry," Guiche said, his tone placating. "These stores sell only the highest quality goods. Their gear is all suitable for military use by experienced battle mages."

John frowned thoughtfully at that. He was actually somewhat interested in seeing what exactly these people wore as armour. From what he'd seen, they appeared to be somewhere around the 16th or 17th century technology wise, and he'd only ever read a few books about that time period. It would be interesting.

More practically, knowing what mages wore would be useful. He doubted that it'd be enough to stop a .45 round, but it wouldn't hurt to find out.

"All right," he said after a moment. "I'll have a look."

Next to him, Louise beamed.

"Just a look though," John warned. "If it all turns out to be inferior to what I've already got, then I'm not wearing it."

"Of course," Guiche said, nodding in agreement.

"Also, if we do get anything, then we're getting it at a discount, right?"

Guiche hesitated. "I… uh, well, I'm not sure that…"

"Right?"

Guiche hung his head. "…Yes."

John grinned.

* * *

The early morning sun was shining brightly in the sky as John reclined against his post outside Louise's door, tapping his fingers impatiently against the wall. Apparently, going into town was a big enough event that it was causing Louise (and by extension, Siesta) some trouble in choosing her clothing, judging by the occasional loud complaints that emanated out of the door. And the sheer length of time she was taking to accomplish this seemingly impossible task.

He sighed. The girl was nearly as bad as the White Glove Society were, primping and preening for hours in front of their mirrors for hours on end before their banquets. He'd gone to one or two of said banquets, but generally turned down the invitations. Much to their relief, he suspected. They'd never quite been happy about how he'd taken 'formal wear' to mean 'combat armour'.

After waiting for another two minutes, he rapped sharply on the door. "How much longer is this going to take, Louise?"

The use of her given name in front of a servant was something of a risk, but it had benefits too. The servants at the academy seemed to perceive him as some kind of hero of the common man, a delusion he wasn't under any particular desire to deprive them of. Playing up the fact that Louise didn't have a hold on him a bit would only reinforce that image. More importantly, it would remind Louise of their conversation the day before.

A bit excessive perhaps, but Louise had a stubborn streak long enough that you needed the mental equivalent of a sledgehammer to get a message through.

"Just hold on for a moment!" Louise's voice carried loudly through the door. "I'm still choosing my blouse!"

"Louise, we're going to have to miss breakfast at this rate," John said, his tone annoyed. "We promised to meet Guiche an hour from now."

"Then _you_ go down and have breakfast! I have more important things to worry about."

John considered that for a second. It wasn't a bad idea actually. Louise hardly needed to be escorted everywhere by him. This was an academy after all, not a den of Deathclaws. If she wasn't safe here, he'd have to glue her to his side anywhere else.

As he turned to leave, he heard one last demand as Louise commanded that Siesta simultaneously open up the fourth door down and get out her summer wear.

He shook his head wearily.

The dining hall was nearly halfway emptied by the time he arrived, a steady stream of students leaving for whatever business occupied their day. Despite that, he noticed a familiar figure sitting at a small table, separated from the main part of the room by a fair distance.

"Guiche," John greeted the noble as he approached. "I'm surprised to see you here. I thought you'd be getting ready for the trip."

"Ah, John. Good morning," Guiche responded, turning in his seat to face the older man. "And actually, it was something of a surprise for me too actually."

Guiche gestured in front of him as he spoke and John noticed the large tray on the table, heavily laden with food and drink, far more than one person could eat. He raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Montmorency invited me to breakfast," Guiche said, rubbing his head somewhat embarrassedly. "She said that she wanted to put the whole Katie… incident behind us."

John glanced around. The drill-haired blonde was distinctly absent. "Where is she then?"

"Good question," Guiche replied. "I was just about to go looking for her."

"Go ahead," John said. "I'll watch your place for you."

Guiche stared at him for a second, before bursting into a smile. "That would be very kind of you. Feel free to help yourself to the tea, if you'd like. It's one of Mon's special brews, so it's certain to be excellent. Though I haven't tried this one yet."

John frowned. "Mon?"

The blonde noble flushed.

"It's, ah, a pet name I have for Montmorency," Guiche admitted.

John grinned slightly at that, causing the noble to turn an even deeper shade of red and flee with a hurried farewell.

He sat down in the newly vacated seat and absentmindedly poured himself a cup of tea, frowning thoughtfully. Guiche's reaction had reminded him just how _young_ these students were. He was probably two to three times older than some of them, and he hadn't been born with half a dozen silver spoons rammed down his throat. Life experience outside of being waited on hand and foot probably wasn't in great supply within the academy.

After a moment, he shrugged. It wasn't his business. At least not unless they tried to make it his. He picked up the cup of tea and brought it up towards his lips, blowing on it gently to cool it.

"Don't drink it!"

John spun in his chair at the sound of the shriek, to find himself face to face with Montmorency. The noble's gaze was flicking between him and the teacup in his hand, a horrified expression on her face. Around the hall, a few of the remaining students were looking at them with curiosity, their attention drawn by Montmorency's cry. The blonde haired girl didn't even seem to notice them however, her attention fixed on John.

"Did you drink it?" Montmorency asked, her whispering voice a sharp contrast to her panicked shriek from a moment before.

John stared at her for a moment before realisation overcame shock. Something was in the drink. Slowly, he put the cup down, hiding it behind a large loaf of breath. He smiled up at the noble, a friendly, open air surrounding him. "Guiche is looking for you."

Montmorency ignored that comment, glaring at him. "I said, did you drink it?"

"You could probably catch him if you left now."

"Answer me!"

"You're drawing quite a lot of attention," John said calmly, gesturing at the students now openly staring at them. "Maybe you should sit down so we can talk? Before Guiche returns?"

Montmorency looked around her quickly. The blonde seemed to deflate under the regard of her peers, a look of sheer, animal panic crossing her face.

She sat.

"Smart choice," John said. "Would you like to something to eat? I know I'm not your scheduled partner for breakfast, but we have to make do with what we have, don't we? And the side dishes look pretty good."

Montmorency scowled. "I prepared the breakfast. The food is of the highest quality."

"So you did," John said, nodding cheerfully. Then his smile took on a decidedly evil bent. "Perhaps some _tea_, then?"

Montmorency paled further still.

"To answer your earlier question, I haven't tried it yet," John continued. "But maybe that's for the best. What's in it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. There's nothing in it," Montmorency said firmly. The young lady seemed to have gathered fresh resolve from somewhere and sat up, squaring her shoulders as she glared at him.

"Really?" John raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps we should see if Professor Colbert has the same opinion?"

He stood, teapot clasped in his hand.

"Don't!" Montmorency said quickly, her voice fearful.

John sat down and leaned back, fixing the girl with his stare. "What's in it?"

For a moment the girl was silent, hesitation warring with inevitability as she searched for a way out of this predicament. After a moment, her shoulders slumped in defeat. She glanced around, but bereft of further drama the rest of the students had simply stopped paying attention to them. She leaned in closer to him, then spoke in a whisper.

"It's a love potion."

John blinked. "A… love potion? You mean an aphrodisiac?"

"No!" Montmorency snapped. "What kind of person do you think I am!? I'm no whore, to give away my chastity like that. It's a genuine love potion."

"I find the fact that you find brainwashing someone into loving you to be more morally acceptable than just sleeping with them to be both amusing and horrifying in equal measure, but we'll put that aside for now," John said. "How strong is it? How long does it last?"

"Very strong. I made it myself," There was a hint of pride in the girl's voice as she spoke. "Guiche will be entirely devoted to me while he's under it's influence. The effects will last for months, at the very least."

"That can't be legal," John said after a moment, shaking his head. "You'd have the entire nobility drugging each other into the ground every few weeks if it were."

Montmorency didn't say anything in response, which was an answer all it's own. It only made sense that something like a love potion would be illegal. If the effect was as strong as Montmorency professed it to be, then the possibilities of something like that were endless. You could topple a nation if you knew what you were doing.

Suddenly, he was very interested in the tea.

"How does it work? I'm guessing that you made it so that everyone who drinks the potion falls in love with you?"

"No. It's whomever you first see after you've drunk the potion."

John stared at her in surprise. "But you weren't here earlier. What if Guiche had started drinking?"

Montmorency scowled. "I was held up. One of the teachers wanted to ask about some components I'd been borrowing from the school stocks lately."

"I can see how that would have been an uncomfortable line of questioning," John said dryly.

The ramshackle nature of her plan was almost painful to watch. She'd actually borrowed the supplies from the school? And then she'd sent the potion, the actual key component of making Guiche stop his philandering, ahead of her? The girl might be a talented alchemist, but subterfuge was clearly not her strong point.

John sighed. "Alright, well as much as I can understand _why_ you'd want to do this, I can't let you. Guiche has his flaws, but doping him into following you around like a lovesick puppy probably isn't the right solution for your relationship."

Montmorency had the grace to look slightly ashamed, but glared at him nonetheless. "And who are you to tell me what I can and cannot do?"

"The person who you literally just told your entire plan? And who has the evidence right in front of him? All I need to do is take this pot to anyone with some authority and I suspect that you'll be in deep shit."

"…Point taken."

"And I can't let you keep it either," John continued. "So instead I'm going to- Oh. Guiche is back."

Montmorency turned in her chair quickly. The blonde dandy had returned to the hall, his gaze flicking around .Eventually, it settled on Montmorency. He waved at her, and then began making his way over.

Montmorency spun back to face John. "You can't tell him!"

"I'm not going to," John assured her. He gestured at the teapot. "I'm going to dispose of it instead. How long does the love potion last before degrading, and will diluting it with water render it ineffective?"

"It'll last for years before it degrades," Montmorency said quickly, staring at the approaching figure of Guiche with fresh panic. "But ten parts water to one part love potion should render it entirely useless."

"Simple enough. Go. Distract him while I get rid of this crap. And you owe me a favour for this."

Montmorency shot him a glare as she stood. "A favour? For getting in my way?"

"For not selling you out for breaking the law," he replied. "And for stopping you for doing something incredibly stupid. Now hurry up. He's almost here."

Montmorency shot off, catching Guiche no more than ten metres from the table and immediately pulling him into a conversation to distract him. And, conveniently, she was also distracting herself.

John pulled the teacup out from it's hiding place behind the bread, and drew an empty bottle out from his coat pocket. Hiding his hands behind the teapot, he quickly emptied the cup into the bottle, then closed the bottle up and slipped it back into his coat. Then, calmly, he shoved the now empty teacup and pot off the table and onto the floor.

The crash drew the entire room's attention, and John suddenly found himself the centre of attention. Within second, Guiche had hurried over, a concerned look on his face.

"Are you alright? What happened?"

John shrugged. "My hand slipped. Sorry, Guiche. I seem to have ruined your breakfast."

"Oh, don't worry about it." The noble waved his hands dismissively. "It's a shame that I won't get to try Montmorency's tea, but accidents happen. Right, Mon?"

"I… suppose so," she replied, her voice annoyed. "We really should get a servant to clean this up as soon as possible though. It wouldn't do if anyone was to slip and hurt themselves."

"No doubt one of the staff will be along soon enough," Guiche said, apparently oblivious to the frustration in his girlfriend's tone.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, John noticed Louise enter the room, Siesta a step behind her.

"Hold on a second," he said, pulling himself to his feet. Guiche and Montmorency gave him curious looks but relaxed once they saw where he was looking.

"You look good, Louise," John said as his master neared. To his own surprise, it wasn't a lie. The lilac silk blouse that she had finally settled on accentuated the colour of her hair nicely, and she'd swapped out her normal skirt for something a little longer, but with far more frills. It was definitely a design focused on being 'cute', but it was also possessed of a certain elegance. Veronica would have _happily_ killed for it.

Louise smiled triumphantly. "I do, don't I? I told you it would be worth the wait."

"I wouldn't go that far."

Siesta giggled slightly at that. She was quickly silenced by a glare from Louise.

"Have you had breakfast then, _familiar?_" Louise asked, her tone thick with vitriol as she put emphasis the title.

John shook his head. "I haven't had a chance. I got caught up talking to Guiche and Montmorency."

"Montmorency?" Louise gave him an incredulous look. "What did she want to talk to you about?"

"Oh, nothing much. Guiche. Tea. I wasn't really paying much attention."

"Good," Louise said firmly. "She doesn't have anything to say that's worth listening to."

"If you say so," John replied easily. "Thought I suspect you'd get on well with her f you just talked to her."

Louise crossed her arms, a look of disbelief on her face. "And what makes you think that?"

John slipped his hand into his pocket, feeling the glass surface of the bottle containing the remnants of the tea. He grinned viciously.

"Call it a hunch."

-End-


End file.
